


You'll have to do with John.

by allthingsjohnlock



Series: Once a babysitter, always a babysitter.. [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, John Plays Rugby, John is Amazing, John is Perfect, John is a Saint, John is hot, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Red Pants, Sherlock Has A Crush, Sherlock in Love, Slow Burn, Sweaty John, Teasing, Teenagers, Teenlock, Texting, Wet John, bee pants, flirty teasing, his parents love sherlock, lots of love, sherlock loves his parents, sleepover, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsjohnlock/pseuds/allthingsjohnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's parents don't trust him to be home by himself for one evening. So mummy Holmes got Sherlock a babysitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably been done a million times, but I just think it's a cute AU. General Audiences for now, but this will change as the story develops. 
> 
> English is not my first language, as you can probably tell, and this is not beta-ed at all. So I'm terribly sorry for any mistakes. And also, if you'd like to volunteer as a beta, shoot me a message on tumblr at: http://allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com/
> 
> Disclaimer: none of these charachters are mine, obviously. 
> 
> ok, off with the story!

"Mummy, I’m not a baby, therefore I’m sure I don’t actually need a babysitter. Come on, I’m almost 14, I can take care of myself for one evening.“ Sherlock is pouting while saying this. It’s not really helping his case. 

“You’re 13 and 2 months, darling. That’s far from 14. And you’re getting a sitter because you messed up the last chance you got. Always experimenting with that big, brilliant brain of yours.” She messes up his hair fondly. “We’re very proud of you, you know this, but you’re just not taking care of yourself while we’re out. We just want you to be safe, that’s why we asked John to come and keep an eye on you. It’s not a punishment, darling, you did nothing wrong, so please don’t see it as one.” She turned around and started leaving his bedroom. 

“Why can’t Mycroft come home and stay with me?” Sherlock inquired. His mother turned around right before she went out of sight. 

“Darling, you know he’s at uni, it’s the middle of the week, he can’t just come home and drop everything just because you need a babysitter. You’ll see him on Friday. And in the meantime, you’ll have to do with John.”

“John, who he?” Sherlock asked. 

His mother stood there, in the door opening, the light form the hallway shining around her head like a halo. “Oh, you know him, Sherlock, he’s Harry’s brother.” 

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together. “Harry, who he?” 

“She, darling, Harry’s short for Harriet. Come on, you know them, John and Harriet Watson? You used to run around naked in their garden,” she smiled fondly at the memory. 

“I did what”? Sherlock is digging in his memories trying to find the one where he’s apparently naked in someone else’s garden. He seriously can’t remember such an awful thing happening. 

“Oh, honey, don’t look so shocked, it was ages ago, you were three years old. They had a nice little garden with a little swimming pond. You absolutely loved it. Oh hold on, I think I have a picture somewhere of the three of you. Come on, let’s go look for it downstairs while we wait for John.” 

Sherlock threw the blankets off him. He had crawled under them out of anger when he found out his parents got him a sitter, ready to for one of his famous sulk episodes. He crossed his room, walked through the hallway and caught up with his mother halfway down the stairs. 

“I still can’t recall any of this. Why was I naked? And where do we know the Watson’s from? And where did they live, here in town? Did we get along well? Were we friends? Mummy?” 

Sherlock’s was begging for some answers. He couldn’t quite believe he actually had friends once. 

“Slow down, darling. You guys got along just fine, Harriet and John were the nicest kids, and John still is. He’s turned into a lovely and handsome young man. I bumped into him at Mrs Hudson’s bakery the other day. Turns out he moved back to the neighbourhood and started working there about two weeks ago.” They entered the living room. She picked a photo album from the bookcase and sat down on one of the couches. Sherlock sat down next to her, so close that his mother lifted up her arm so Sherlock could crawl under it. His mother tucked her arm around him and put the photo album on both their legs. 

“Let’s see, I think it’s in here.” She started flipping through the pages and Sherlock saw plenty pictures of him as a small boy, and of Mycroft in his teens. He saw pictures of them as a family and pictures of just his parents with some friends. Some of the pictures he had never seen before, some of them were printed out on a bigger scale and were now scattered around the house, hanging on the walls or standing on furniture. 

“Ah, here it is.” His mother said. “Look at you, you were so adorable. And your hair,… , always a mess, even more so back then.” 

Sherlock directed his eyes at the picture his mother was pointing at. Yup, that was definitely him. So naked, butt-naked, wearing absolutely nothing, not even a tiny pair of undies, or some swimming trunks, no t-shirt, no hat, no shoes, nothing whatsoever. Good thing he was just a toddler, there wasn’t really anything to look at back then, but still, it’s quite embarrassing. In the picture he’s looking up to the kid on his right, who’s a considering amount taller than he is. 

“Oh and look at John, such a cute kid”. 

Sherlock did as she said, and looked about 3cm to the right of his tiny self. Blond hair, eyes squinted shut, small nose, big smile, suntanned naked torso, black and white striped swimming trunks and bare feet. Sherlock guessed John was about 7 years old in the picture. His left arm was casually draped around a small girl’s shoulders. Sherlock guessed that was Harriet. She had the same features as John, same blond hair, though a bit longer, cute nose, big smile and quite suntanned as well, clearly brother and sister. She was wearing a pink bathing suit and some pink slippers. 

“And that’s Harriet.” Ok, that confirmed Sherlock’s suspicions. 

“I heard she’s also growing into a wonderful young woman. Look at her, how adorable, and John, so fond of her.” 

Sherlock had seen enough of the three of them and started to scan for any clues of recognition in the background. Why couldn’t he remember any of this? The three of them were standing in front of the pond his mother was talking about, it was small indeed and the garden itself did not seem like it was very big. Sherlock thought they mustn’t have been very rich then. The garden was well maintained, though, so one of their parents must’ve loved gardening, as they wouldn’t have enough money to hire a gardener. Sherlock looked at the flowerbeds at the side of the picture and could just recognize a watering can and some pink plastic gloves. Ah, their mother then. Sherlock then looked at the description under the photo. 

“Watson’s garden, September 1997, Harriet – John – Sherlock” 

So he was three and a half years old back then. “Where’s Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, “Wasn’t he there with us?” 

“He took the picture, darling, you really don’t remember? That’s odd.” Sherlock looked back at John’s and Harriet’s faces, trying to remember and recognize them, but to no avail. 

“Mummy, can we tear this picture up, it’s really embarrassing.” Sherlock pleaded. 

“Oh, shush darling, it’s adorable. I think I’ll show it to John when he gets here in a minute.” She closed the album and put in on table in front of them. She stood up and took Sherlock’s hand, come on darling, let me show you what I’ve set up for you two to eat. 

She led him into the kitchen and opened the fridge. While she was taking something from the top shelf the doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be him, go get the door, Sherlock.” Sherlock looked at her with shock in his eyes. 

“No, mum, please” 

“Sherlock, don’t start with me, go let John in.” Sherlock turned around and stormed out of the kitchen, stomping with his feet all the way across the hall. He opened the door quickly and looked right into the blue eyes of a surprised young man. 

“You’re not very tall, we’re almost the same height.” Sherlock said. He turned his head towards the kitchen and yelled, “Mummy, seriously, I don’t need a sitter, definitely not one who’s as big as I am.” 

“SHERLOCK!” came a warning shout from the kitchen. 

He turned around again and squinted his eyes, looking over his so-called babysitter. He could easily recognise him from the picture; blond hair, cute nose and golden suntanned skin. He was wearing blue all-stars, some jeans, and a burgundy hoodie. Although John should be offended by Sherlock’s comment, he was actually smiling now. Sherlock could see white teeth peaking through his lips, forming a very contagious smile. He was quite taken aback by it. Eventually he stepped aside and said “Well, come in then.” 

John, still looking quite surprised but also having an amused smirk on his lips stepped over the threshold and passed Sherlock. At that moment his mother came out of the kitchen saying quite agitated, “What’s taking you so long?” 

She caught sight of John and the expression on her face changed. “John, darling, I’m so glad you were able to help us out. Come in, come in! Oh, look at you, you’re so handsome.” Then she turned to her son. ”Sherlock, stop staring and close that door, please.” She turned back to their guest. ”Come John, come with me.” 

John followed Mrs Holmes into the kitchen. Sherlock lingered in the hall for a bit longer and heard his mother talking to John. 

“Have you eaten, John, because I prepared some dinner for the two of you, you do like spaghetti, right? I was worried you’d grow hungry when we’d be out all night. Anyway, just pop it into the microwave for a few minutes if you want some. Now, that son of mine has to eat” She’s looking at Sherlock now, who’s still standing near the kitchen door. ”Even if he says he’s not hungry, don’t let him fool you ‘cause he’s very convincing, but he hasn’t eaten yet so just make sure he eats some.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. Why is that so important to his mother, he’s healthy, that should be most important, right? John caught him rolling his eyes and winked at him. Sherlock felt his cheeks warm up, why was he blushing right now? Good thing John was focusing on his mother again so no one was actually paying any attention to him. 

“Ok, John, there’s some healthy snack in the fridge or some not-so-healthy snack in that cupboard over there. If you’d like some tee or coffee just ask Sherlock he knows where everything is and know how to work the machines. Would you like something right now, honey?”

“Some tea would be lovely actually” John said. 

“Ok, Sherlock, you heard him, get on that. I’ll go upstairs to get myself and your father ready.” She started walking in the direction of the staircase but stopped right in front of Sherlock, just in front of the door. 

“Sherlock, darling, did you hear him, he’d like some tea.” Sherlock did actually hear him, but he was more so listening to the sound of his voice than to the message it was giving. His voice was lovely, low, soft and sweet, and did he hear a light Scottish accent in there? He shook his head as to wake himself up. 

“Huh?” 

Sherlock’s mother was still looking at him, a bit confused but amused at the same time. “Tea, darling, for John.” 

“Oh, sure, yeah, no problem, yeah, sorry, daydreaming, I guess … ”. 

“Come John, let me show you the living room, real quick” His mother said, and they disappeared into the adjacent room. Sherlock started moving toward the other end of the kitchen to start with the tea. A few minute later, when he was pouring the tea into the cups he heard some shuffling behind him, probably his mother who needed something from the kitchen. He didn't turn around. 

He was putting the cups on their saucers and onto a little tray, along with some cookies, when he heard a gasp behind him, immediately followed by: “Oh my god, you’re so cute.” Sherlock was stunned. That was not his mother’s voice, nor his father’s. It was John’s. Why would he say that? He opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out. He managed to choke out one word “What?” and spun around. John was sitting on a stool, looking down, hunched over the worktable in the middle of the kitchen, with the photo album in his hands. 

John went on without looking up. “You, here, this photo, you’re adorable, look at your skinny legs and arms. You were so thin, I was always afraid to hurt you when we were playing in the pond. You always looked so frail and breakable.” Sherlock stepped closer to John and the photo album, tea and tray forgotten behind him. 

“You remember that?” Sherlock asked. 

“Of course I do, we always had a blast, the four of us. You don’t remember?” “No, mummy just showed me the picture, I don’t remember a thing.” John feigned shock and gasped. “What, not even me?” Sherlock looked up at his face. His eyes were big and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. 

“No, not at all, and it’s unnerving. I should remember, I remember lots of things from when I was that age.” He looked down at the picture again, trying to recall something while looking at the younger version of John. He looked back up at the older John. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, I don’t even think you’ve grown that much.” 

“Hey now, will you shut up about my height please, that’s a sensitive subject. And anyway, you’re one to talk, looks like you haven’t gained a pound, skinny git.” 

Sherlock laughed, squeezing his eyes shut, when he opened them he saw that John wasn’t actually mad and was actually chuckling along with him. Already Sherlock wasn’t mad at his mother anymore for getting him a babysitter. Sherlock felt comfortable around him, he really didn’t have a clue why. Maybe it was John’s easy-going attitude, his friendly face or just the fact that John actually knew him as a person, even if that was a decade ago. Something fit and Sherlock relaxed, his laugh easing into a big smile. 

“What are you boys laughing about in here?” His mother entered back into the kitchen wearing a beautiful dark purple gown, two steps behind her was her husband, looking equally dashing in a black penguin suit with white shirt and white bowtie. 

“Wow, you two look spectacular.” John uttered. 

“John, sweetheart, how nice of you to say. Has Sherlock made you your tea yet?” She questioned, looking at the empty space at the worktop in front of John and Sherlock. Sherlock shot up of the stool he was sitting on and rushed to where he was before John walked in with the photo album. 

“Sherlock, darling, I told you to make John some tea.” 

John chuckled when he saw Sherlock in such distress. “It’s entirely my fault Mrs Holmes, I distracted him with that photo album. I can’t believe how much he’s grown, seriously though, I used to be so much taller, and look at us now.” Sherlock picked up the tray full of biscuits and tea and turned around to put it next to the photo album on the worktop. 

“Finally” John said, but gave Sherlock a wink indicating he was only teasing. 

“So where are you guys off to on this fine evening?” John asked. 

“A fund raising event from my old college, they’re raising some money for the scholarships for next year, they’d like to have more students from different backgrounds, you see. That reminds me, dear, are you applying to any colleges? What would like to study?” 

John turns read, looks from Sherlock to Mrs Holmes to Mr Holmes and then down again, at the picture. Everyone was looking at him and after a moment he muttered: “I’d like to go medical school, but I’m not sure I can pay for it, I’m very sure my mom can’t pay for it, so that’s why I started working all these odd jobs.” 

“Oh honey, that’s great, you’d be a fantastic doctor… If I ever need some fixing around the house, I’ll call you first, deal?” John looked up when he noticed no one was laughing at them and everyone seemed to be on board with his plan. 

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great, actually.” The smile on his face was huge now; showing off that entire row of perfect, white teeth again. Sherlock just stared at him, glad no one was really paying attention to him now. 

“Actually John” Mr Holmes began ”were going to start remodelling the attic in a few weeks. If you want you can help us with that. It’ll probably be a lot of moving stuff around and lots of painting. Are you up for that?” Mr Holmes looked at John with a questioning face. 

“That’d be brilliant!” John responded. “Yeah, I mean, yes, for sure. I’d love to.” 

“Great, that’s a deal then, we’ll keep you informed. But right now, I think we have to go, love.” Mrs Holmes turned to her husband and knotted. 

“Right, we’re off. Sherlock, darling, behave yourself.” She walked over to him and ruffled his hair before bending down and laying a kiss on top of his head. 

“Mum, jeez!” She smiled fondly at him and moved on to John, pecking his cheek and whispering in his ear. 

“I meant it, John, you’d be a brilliant doctor, don’t ever give up on your dream, ok?” She turned his face around, looking into his eyes. “Ok?” She asked again and didn’t move until she got a response from John. “Ok” He whispered back, moved by her kind words. 

Mrs Holmes righted herself and spun around. “Right, I’m ready, let’s go.” She moved past her husband and out of the kitchen. Mr Holmes turned to follow her but shot a glance back at the two boys and said: “Sherlock, it’s a school night, so 11pm at the latest.” He turned around again and disappeared from view. 10 seconds later they heard Mrs Holmes yell “Have fun, boys!” right before the door slammed shut. 

Now it was just him and John.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!  
> First of all, I'd like to say I'm pleasantly suprised by all the love this is getting. Seriously, you guys are the sweetest. I was not expecting that at all.   
> Secondly, this is not beta-ed again. Mostly because I couldn't contact her/him but also because I was so excited to publish this, and also because I want you guys to know I'm working on this story! But, again, sorry for all the grammar or spelling errors.
> 
> disclaimer: not my characters
> 
> Ok, enjoy all the fluff and flirty teasing!

It was dead quiet now, no sound but Sherlock and John’s breathing. Sherlock was afraid to look at John for the moment, so he took a cup from the tray and started drinking his tea. 

“So, do you have homework I can help you with, or you want me to help you prepare for a test or something? Or maybe you want to eat something first? Your mums spaghetti looks delicious.”

Sherlock squinted his eyes and scrunched up his nose. “Ugh, no thanks.”

“Um” John began “was that to the food or to me helping you with your homework?” 

“Both, I’m not hungry, and I don’t need any help with my homework, I’m a genius. I can do my homework without anyone’s help.” 

“A genius? Really? Ok then, fine. I was just wondering what your plans were for this evening, want to watch some TV or a movie? Or do you just want to do your homework by yourself? Or read a book maybe? Or … um … play a board game? Those are fun!” He was out of ideas now, so he just stopped giving suggestions. Silence fell and it took several seconds before Sherlock responded.

“Right, I’ll just be up in my room. Do whatever you want, but please don’t disturb me, I’m conducting a very important experiment.” He turned around and walked towards the staircase, leaving John behind in the kitchen. 

“Whoa, hey, hold up, you’re forgetting something.” Sherlock turned around again, his face challenging, but his mouth stayed shut. 

“Food?” John continued. “Your mother was very insistent, you’re eating something, young man.” Sherlock just stood there, looking at him for a minute. He was not eating any of that spaghetti, John could forget about it. He just rolled his eyes and started to head for the stairs again when he heard John say “Sherlock, please, just a small plate, I don’t want to get into trouble with your parents, and you truly are skin and bones all over, you should eat some more. Please, just, a couple of bites and some biscuits and, um, finish up your tea as well.” 

Sherlock really couldn’t resist, John’s face was just so open and hopeful, as if his dying wish was to feed Sherlock up. His face showed signs of concern, which was strange, according to Sherlock’s knowledge of normal human behaviour. They’d only just met, for god’s sake! Well, you know, again. But still… His mother was right, though, he would be a great doctor. One of those doctors you wouldn’t question and just trusted without doubt. Sherlock realised now, he’d do whatever John told him to do. 

“Ok, I’ll eat some, but only if you do the dishes and promise me you won’t disturb me later, I truly am busy. And I’ll take that tea with me upstairs. Deal?” The look on his face was very self-assured, as if he had already won this round. And it appeared like he did, because John’s eyes shone and a big smile appeared across his face.

“Deal, sit down, I’ll warm a plate up for you.” Sherlock walked back into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools, again picking up his cup of tea, slowly sipping from it while John was bustling around in the kitchen looking for plates. Sherlock watched him opening and closing all the wrong cupboard doors and started sniggering. John heard him and turned around rapidly. 

“Stop it, you could at least help me out a bit, you’re being very rude right now.” 

“Fine, the microwavable plates are right above your head, in that cupboard over there.” He pointed at a point near the right of John’s head. “The utensils are in the drawer next to the fridge. And the microwave is over there.“ He pointed at the microwave at the other end of the kitchen. 

“Yes, thank you Sherlock, I know what a microwave looks like. No need to get smart with me.” John was still smiling though, showing Sherlock he was only teasing. 

John got the plates out and put some spaghetti on top of them, one a considerable amount fuller than the other, and squeezed them both in the microwave. He closed the door carefully and pushed some buttons, the microwave started buzzing. He turned around and headed towards the utensil drawer. He took out two forks and then asked “spoon or knife?”

Sherlock who was watching John through every step cocked his head and answered, “what do you think?”

John looked him over really quick and took out a spoon and a knife. He put the spoon and a fork in front of Sherlock, pushed the photo album that was still lying there disregarded to the side and put his own utensils in its place. Sherlock smiled. He got it right, could be a guess of course, but at least now it looked like John wasn’t an idiot, like most people. 

The microwave beeped and Sherlock saw John looking for some oven mitts on his way over. “They’re right next to the oven, on the right.” John found them and took the plates out, walked over to Sherlock and put the small plate in front of Sherlock; he put the other plate next to it and sat down on the stool next to Sherlock. 

“Smells delicious. God, I love spaghetti, I could just eat this for the rest of my life.” John confessed, right before he took his first bite. 

“God, that’s good.” His mouth was still full. He hummed. “Mhm, wow, your mother is a great cook. Does she always cook?” 

Sherlock nodded a quick yes, still not having touched his own plate. 

“Come on, eat some, you promised. And anyway how you can refuse to eat this. I think I’m going to eat everything in that pot.” Sherlock was looking at him with an amused look on his face. In truth, seeing John enjoying that plate of spaghetti was waking the hunger inside of him. He looked down at his plate, picked up his utensils, turned some spaghetti strings around his fork and took the tiniest bite. Yep, delicious. His mother was a great cook and that was the truth. 

In no time, his own plate was empty, while John was only in half. Sherlock was definitely hungry for more. He didn’t want to admit defeat though, so he just took some biscuits from the tray and stuck them into his mouth. Sherlock didn’t really know why he wanted to eat more, was it because he was actually hungry? Did he find the spaghetti so delicious he needed more of it? Or was it just because John was such pleasant company?

John noticed the longing looks Sherlock was throwing at his plate. “Are you still hungry? Do you want some of this?” John pointed at his plate. 

Sherlock blushed. “It appears I do.” He answered. John smiled at him and threw some of his spaghetti on Sherlock’s plate. “I told you it was good. I’m so happy you’re eating. You’re already getting some colour back into your face.” This made Sherlock blush even more. He worked the rest of the spaghetti into his mouth, took his tea and stood up from the stool. 

“Ok, I’m heading upstairs, do whatever you want. I’ll be in my room, no disturbing, yes?”

“Yes.” John agreed. “But I’ll be coming up right before 11pm to make sure you’re heading for bed. And if you need some help with your experiment, just shout.”

Sherlock exited the kitchen and right before he was out of earshot he heard John yell, “don’t be a stranger!”

Sherlock went up the stairs with a big, goofy smile on his face, he opened the door to his room, shut it and looked at himself in the mirror that hung from the back of it. He was still smiling like a loon. He dropped that smile immediately. What was wrong with him? He looked like a 5-year old kid entering a sweetshop. Utterly ridiculous. “Get a grip.” He whispered to himself. 

He turned and went to sit on his mess of a bed. He looked around his room. Dark blue walls with some light blue details. The ceiling was even darker and had those glow-in-the-dark stars on it. He would always love the night sky, so beautiful. He looked at his desk now, in front of the window. It was a big desk. It had books, papers, magazines and pens scattered all over it and in the corner was a cage with two mice in. He got them for his 12th birthday to do some experimenting on and grew rather fond of them over time. Now they’re never used for experimenting anymore, they’re his favourite company after a rough day at school.

Sherlock liked school; he loved being challenged by his teachers. Most of them saw the potential in him and gave him more challenging work to do. He loved his chemistry teacher; he kept telling Sherlock to go study chemistry at uni and he was actually thinking of following his advice. He loved chemistry. But even though he liked school, he didn’t like to go to school. The other students made his life a living hell. Calling him names, saying he’s rude and ugly, calling him a freak. He stared at his backpack next to the chair by his desk. Tomorrow’s another day at school. It’ll be Friday though, last day before the weekend. 

Weekends were the best, Mycroft would return home and they’d do some typical family stuff. They’d go out for diner, go to the movies, have tea together or just cook together. Sherlock was always sad when Sunday evening would roll around he’d had to prepare for another week at school. 

Sherlock was still sitting there, staring at random stuff in his room, absentmindedly sipping his tea and realising he should be doing something. He told John he was doing an experiment and that he shouldn’t be disturbed, but that wasn’t entirely true. He’d just wanted to seem smart. He was actually just doing some research for a paper he knew he was going to get next week from his chemistry teacher. He had looked further into his textbook to check what the next chapter was about and deduced what his next assignment was going to be, so he’d started on it right away. 

He stood up from the bed, walked over to his desk, put his teacup down, and sat down on the chair. He started organising all the paper and when he’d put most of them on neat stacks, his laptop came into view, previously buried under all the chaos. He sighed, opened it up and started working on his assignment. He lost track of time. He might have been working for 10, 20, 30 minutes or an hour maybe, he really couldn’t tell, when he heard muffled noises from downstairs. 

He stood up and walked over to his bedroom door and slowly opened it, just enough to let the noise come through. It was music, he could hear it now, and it was familiar song too. It was very upbeat and then he recognized it, a song from Grease. He couldn’t quite believe it, John listening to Grease? Sherlock was really curious now, and all of a sudden he heard Johns voice singing along with the chorus “You’re the one that I want, ooh ooh oooh honey.” Sherlock couldn’t stifle a laugh. He opened the door more, so he could better listen to Johns singing. It was quite lovely actually. He hit all the notes and Sherlock could tell that he was smiling while singing. Sherlock just had to go take a look.

He opened the door fully now and stepped through, crossed the hallway on his tiptoes and descended the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. But really, even if he made some noise, no one would notice because the music was rather loud. 

He reached the kitchen and hid himself behind the wall with the door that leads into the living room. He noticed that John had cleaned up the kitchen, there is no sight of any plates or cutlery; he probably already put everything away as well, just like he promised. Then Sherlock noticed an open cupboard door, one that wasn’t open before. Aha, so John took some non-healthy snacks into the living room. He has a bit of a sweet tooth, then. How cute. 

Sherlock was standing right next to the door and could peer through the crack between the door and the wall, where it rests on its hinges. He looked through. John was standing on the couch, ON the couch. No wait, he wasn’t just standing there, he was dancing. On the couch. Shaking his hips in a true Grease-fashion while still singing along with the lyrics. He looked utterly ridiculous. Sherlock just watched him through another minute of the song. When the song was over and he saw John jump of the couch while kicking his legs and arms into the air, Sherlock couldn’t stifle the loud laugh that ran through him. 

When John hit the floor, he looked at where the sound came from and asked quietly. “Sherlock, is that you?” Short pause. No response came. ”Because if it’s your parents this would be really embarrassing, and it’s embarrassing enough as it is.” No answer. “I took my shoes off, I wasn’t standing on the couch with my shoes, I took them off first. Look.” He threw up one of his feet, no shoes indeed. 

Sherlock couldn’t stay quiet any longer and came out of his hiding place, standing in the middle of the door opening. 

“That was ridiculous. You are without a doubt the weirdest, most childish babysitter ever. I really don’t understand why my mother was convinced you’d be more responsible than I.” 

John, first being very relieved it was indeed just Sherlock and not his parents, now was looking at Sherlock with an angry look on his face

“Hey now, I’m very responsible, I get good grades, have a proper job, I don’t drink or do drugs and I do my fair share of household duties. I was just trying to entertain myself, because apparently I wasn’t allowed to do anything useful here, like helping someone with their homework.” His eyebrows were raised now and he nodded his head in Sherlock’s direction. “So, um, I came across your parents record collection and noticed this beauty.” He walked over to the record player next to the big TV screen, lifted the record out and put it in its cover. He eyed the cover over. 

“This is still in very good condition, we have some records at home but there are scratches all over it, it’s sad, really. I love how records sound, the music always sounds fuller and warmer, for some reason. I don’t know why.” John was being awfully sentimental. He realised quickly and shook himself out of it. 

“Anyway, how long were you spying on me for?” 

“I wasn’t spying. I was just wondering which awful cat was trying to screech along to such a beautiful song.” John feigned shock again with a big gasp.

“Oh, I have a lovely singing voice, thank you very much. I’d like to see you try, that’s a difficult song to sing.” He looked at Sherlock challengingly. 

“I don’t sing. Singing is for girls.” He walked over to John and the living room table where John put out some snacks for himself. 

“Were you going to eat these all by yourself?” 

“Yes. No. Well, I was hoping for some company.” He smiled. “I’m glad you showed up.”

“Well, I had to come see what all that racket was about. You might’ve scared the neighbours, there’s never any loud music in this house, we like things quiet.”

“Really, no music lovers? But there’s this huge collection here.” He pointed at the wall where the TV was hanging from. There was a big record collection beside it, yes, but that was all from when his parents were younger. 

“We love music, it’s just that we all like different things so we don’t really bother anyone else with it. My parents love the older stuff, hence the records, it’s all 60’s, 70’s and 80s music for them. Mycroft is more into jazz or something, and I’m more of classical music enthusiast, though I do like plenty other styles, too.” 

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, classical music? How did you get into that?”

“I love the violin, I’ve played it since I was 6, I guess I just grew into it. I mostly just play up in my room, to calm myself down, to think, I guess.”

“I’d love to hear some of that.” John said. Sherlock smiled a tiny smile; he didn’t really like to play in front of others. It was his thing. His remedy for calming down, something he liked to do, just for himself. Others shouldn’t be involved. He didn’t want anyone staring at him, noticing his mistakes, or criticizing the way he played. No, the violin was his, and his only.

“Another time, maybe.”

“Ok, sure.” A silence fell, John was sitting beside him now, on the couch and reached for some cookies. “So what would you like to do, now?”

“Well, you disturbed my concentration with all your loud music, so I guess that’s off the table. We can watch a movie if you like, it’s only 9pm, I’ll go to bed straight after.” 

John was surprised by his proposition. “A film, really? Ok, that’s good. Which one? Do you have anything in mind?”

“No, you choose, our DVD-collection is over there.” He pointed at the little cabinet under the TV and added, “I’ll make some more tea, just choose anything you want, I probably won’t like it anyway. If you can’t find anything, we’ll see what’s on Netflix, a TV-show, maybe?” He stared after John who was already up and standing in front of the collection to browse. 

“Ok, I’ll be back.” He went into the kitchen, came out 5 minutes later with two cups of tea, which he put near John’s snacks. John was already sitting on the couch with a triumphant grin on his face. No DVD in sight, but he was definitely holding something behind his back, a DVD probably.

“Ok, you so-called-genius, what movie did I pick?” There was a huge smile on his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I won’t play your silly game.”

“Oh, come on, guess!”

“I don’t guess! Guessing is for idiots, I deduce.”

“Fine, deduce then! What film did I pick?” Sherlock looked around the room for 10 seconds.

“This is too easy. You did even make it difficult.”

“Oh, really, what movie am I holding then?”

“Judging by the previous happenings and the empty space between the movies that start with G and H, I’d have to go with, no, I’m absolutely 100% sure that you are holding Grease.”

John was beaming halfway through Sherlock’s deduction process. When Sherlock said the word Grease, John moved the DVD from the hiding place behind his back to right in front of his face. He lowered the movie so his eyes were visible just above the top of the DVD. 

“Are you up for it? You said you liked the music, earlier.” He asked while moving his eyebrows up and down really quickly. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You’re utterly ridiculous.” But he went and sat down next to him. “Go put it in then, and turn of the big lights.” He moved over to the side of the couch and switched on the small light. 

Two minutes later they were sitting comfortably on the couch watching the opening credits of the film. All of a sudden John head started scanning the room. 

“What are you looking for?” Sherlock asked. 

“Do you have a blanket, my feet are kind of cold.”

“Sure, there should be a big one in there.” He pointed at a pouf in the corner of the room. John got up, opened up the lid and took the blanked out. He came back and arranged himself on the couch, the blanket covering his body from his feet all the way up to his ribs. 

Sherlock stared at him. “Well, don’t be selfish! Give me some of that!” 

“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were cold.”

“I’m not really, but I might be later. Now shut up, I’m trying to watch a movie.”

John did as he was told and held up the blanket for Sherlock to crawl under, their feet resting on the living room table next to the snacks and tea. 

For a while nothing was said, except for “pass me my tea, please” or “pass me a cookie”. And when the movie was halfway through John noticed Sherlock hadn’t moved or said anything for over half an hour. He looked over and saw Sherlock’s head resting on the back of the couch. He was sound asleep. John smiled and took the corner of the blanket to cover Sherlock up all the way to his shoulders. He shuffled a bit closer because the movement of the blanket caused his feet to not get any more coverage from the blanket. He turned his attention back to the movie and felt Sherlock’s head fall to his left shoulder. He didn’t mind at all. In fact, he was rather feeling sleepy himself and he, too, didn't make it to the end of the movie. 

That’s how Sherlock’s parents found them at 1.30 am. The tea gone cold, snacks half consumed, the opening credits of the film on repeat, Sherlock and John on the couch, together, under a blanket and using each other as pillows. 

Mummy Holmes couldn’t resist, she took a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feel free to comment, tell me what you liked or didn't like. 
> 
> Come pay me a visit on my tumblr: http://allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com/   
> It's a secondary blog, so I won't be able to follow you back on it, but I probably will with my main blog.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! This is going rather smooth...  
> Again, not beta-ed. Same reasons as last time.   
> Chapter 4 is almost done, so you can expect that very soon as well... 
> 
> Disclaimer: not my charachters.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next morning Sherlock woke up in his bed. He could tell it was still early by the way his room was light up. He guessed it would be a while before his alarm would go off. He turned his head to the to look at the time but his neck was protesting. He sat up and tried moving it left to right, up and down and in circles. Every time he tried to touch his right ear to his right shoulder a sharp pain shot through the left side of his neck. “Well, that’s annoying,” he thought to himself. 

He got up, trying not to use those muscles from his neck and noticed what he was wearing, which was just his pants. His favorite pants, the one with the bees on. Normally he sleeps with some pyjama bottoms but apparently not last night. He tried to remember going to bed but realised quickly he couldn't. He went through the events of last night and quickly realised he must’ve fallen asleep on the couch. That’s rather embarrassing. So, maybe John put him in bed? Or his parents, when they got home? Sherlock must’ve have been sound asleep. 

He crossed his room, stopped in the middle of it and stretched his arms all the way up, trying to stretch his back and neck. That felt rather nice, and he knew a nice, long, hot shower would loosen up his sore muscles. He walked over to his wardrobe, took out some clean pants, trousers and a shirt and left his room. The door to the bathroom was closed, he could hear the shower running and saw some steam coming from under the door. That’s strange, his mother was normally still asleep at this hour, and his father should already have gone to work. 

Maybe his father slept through his alarm, they were out late last night. He leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door and waited for his father to come outside, knowing he didn’t like to rush in the morning. Sherlock didn’t mind waiting; he still had plenty of time before his alarm would even go off. After a minute or two he heard the shower being turned off and someone stepping out of the shower. Another minute or two and the door swung open. Before the person could step out of the room Sherlock had righted himself off the wall and said: “Good morning, father.” 

“Woah, how old do you think I am?!”

That was definitely not his father. It was dark in the hall, and the light from the bathroom was blinding Sherlock’s eyes for the moment. He was squinting and could only see the outline of the person in front of him: shorter than his father, more muscled too. John, definitely. Then eyes started adjusting to the light and he noticed he was naked, almost, except for the towel wrapped around his waist. Sherlock took his time checking John out. He really couldn’t stop himself. That was one well-defined torso. His eyes finally fully adjusted to the light he could now make out John’s upper body. Muscled arms, broad shoulders, well-defined pectorals and a nice set of abs, all wrapped up in smooth, suntanned skin. 

“Rugby.” He blurted out. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You play rugby.” It was a statement more than a question. 

“Yes, I do. How can you tell?”

“Um, well you’ve got a lot of bruises, so high contact sport, and your built would be perfect for tackling your opponents.”

“That’s brilliant. You seem to know your rugby. Do you play?”

“Sports aren’t really my area.” Why were they talking about sports? There were more important questions to be answered right now. Such as, “why are you still here?”

“Oh, yes. Well, apparently we fell asleep on the couch and when you’re parents got home, they wouldn’t let me drive home because they were afraid I’d fall asleep behind the wheel, and they were too tired to drive me home instead, so your mom suggested I stay over. I slept on the couch downstairs. It’s very comfortable to watch TV on but not very comfortable to sleep on, it would seem. My shoulder was bugging me so I decided to get up early and take a quick shower. I’m sorry I startled you. Your mum told me I could take a shower if I wanted to…” There was a short silence. “I was actually about to make some breakfast. Do you have a preference for eggs? Hard boiled, sunny side up, scrambled?” 

“No thanks, I don’t eat breakfast. Could you move over, I’d like to shower now.” 

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside. “Wait, Sherlock, um.” There was a flush creeping on his face, or was that still from the hot shower? “This is kind of unorthodox but I wasn’t planning on sleeping over, so I didn’t bring any fresh clothing.” Sherlock sensed where this was going. “Could I borrow some pants?” John’s eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. His face was red from embarrassment but his eyes were hopeful. 

“Of course, no need to be embarrassed. I’ll go get some.” He turned around and went back into his room. He came out a minute later with some brand new pants, still in wrapped in plastic. “Here, mummy got these the other week but that colour really is not for me.” They were bright red. “You can have them if you want, I’m never wearing those.” 

“What are you talking about, these are brilliant! I’m so keeping these, thanks. Looks like this family has a thing for slighly special pants.” He winked, nodding his head at the ones Sherlock was wearing. Sherlock was shocked for a second. It was John who first spoke again. “I’m just gonna …” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom and he slipped back inside. He came out a minute later, completely dressed in yesterday’s jeans and hoodie, except for the pants, of course. 

“All yours,” he said as he stepped to the side to let Sherlock through. “And um, thanks again.” He smiled and headed for the stairs. 

Sherlock nodded and went into the bathroom. He was right. The shower did wonders on his sore neck and he came out of the shower completely revived. 

When he stepped out of the steamy bathroom he could immediately smell John’s cooking. It didn’t really affect him though, as he had had a decent dinner last night. He went into his room, took his laptop from his desk, put it in his backpack, together with his chemistry homework, and went downstairs. He passed his parent’s bedroom on the way and saw the lights were on. They’d be down soon. 

Sherlock dropped his bag at the bottom of the stairs and went into the kitchen. John was standing behind the stove, stirring up the eggs. There was some bacon sputtering in another pan and Sherlock could smell toast. 

“Smells good.” John didn’t turn around and said “Morning, I could still make you some, if you want, breakfast is the most import meal of the day, after all.” 

“Tea is all that works for me in the morning, and I did have a big meal last night, so I’m not hungry.” He went over to the water boiler to make some tea and asked, “would you like some?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” 

Suddenly another voice came from the kitchen door. “Sherlock offering to make some tea? I never thought I’d see the day.” It was his father. 

“Morning, father, would you like some as well?”

“Yes, boy, thank you.” He turned his attention to John and took a big, comical sniff of the air. ”Wow John, that smells delicious.” He started moving through the kitchen to set the table for breakfast. 

“Thought I’d make some breakfast for you. I didn’t really know what you would like so I just did scrambled. I could do something else, if you’d rather have that.” 

“No, John, you’re being awfully nice already. Sit down and enjoy your breakfast, please. How was the couch, I hope you had a good night’s sleep?” 

“It was fine, thanks”

“Father, can’t you tell? He didn’t sleep well at all. He was up way too early and his shoulder is bothering him. Why didn’t you offer him Mycroft’s bed? That would’ve been way more comfortable.” Sherlock’s father had a painful look on his face. “You’re completely right, son, I guess it just didn’t cross our minds. Sorry, John.” 

John sat down on one of the stools and scooped up some breakfast for himself. “Apology not excepted, seriously, I don’t mind at all. My shoulder is always bothering me. Sports injury.”

“No, John, Sherlock is right, next time you’re sleeping in Mycroft’s bed and that’s final.” Sherlock couldn’t stop smiling. Next time… 

John just nodded and started eating his breakfast. Sherlock noticed the toast was still in the toaster so he took it out and offered it to John. “Thanks.” Sherlock smiled at him, turned around and poured out the tea. He gave a cup to his father, who was also scooping up some eggs, and then one to John. Lastly he poured himself a cup and sat down across from John, so he could watch him enjoy his breakfast. 

That’s when his mother walked in. “Good morning, boys. Oh, what a beautiful collection of men in my kitchen this morning! Such a nice sight to wake up to.” She smiled and walked over to Sherlock “Good morning, darling” and gave him a peck on his forehead. Then she made it around the worktable and gave John a peck on the top of his head. “Good morning sweetheart, I hope you slept well.” Her arm was still wrapped around his shoulder.

“No mum, he didn’t. His shoulder bothers him. You should have put him in Mycroft’s bed.”

“No, Sherlock it’s fine, really, they didn’t know.” John tried to defend Sherlock’s parents.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” At least she had the decency to look ashamed. Sherlock was pleased. How could they have been so inconsiderate? “Oh, John, you still made us breakfast, after what we did to you.”

“No, please, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. And it’s the least I could do, after you’re being so nice to me.”

“John, you’re a absolute sweetheart!” She gave him another peck, on the cheek this time. John blushed. 

“It smells heavenly, dear.” She took a plate and sat next to Sherlock. It was quiet for a while, everyone enjoying their breakfast and Sherlock sipping his tea. Then John started speaking.

“Mrs Holmes, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Was I dreaming, or did I actually wake up from a photoflash last night?” 

A big grin spread across mummy’s face. “I’m sorry if that woke you up, dear, but I just had to take a picture, you two were adorable, right honey?” She glanced over at her husband; he was sharing her grin. 

“Yes, it was a very charming sight.” Sherlock’s face had confusion written all over it. 

“Why, what happened?” he asked. 

Mummy Holmes dug her phone out of her pocked and pushed some buttons before showing Sherlock and then John. 

Sherlock’s face turned red immediately. It was John and he, lying on the couch, under the blanket with Sherlock resting his head on John’s shoulder and John resting his head on Sherlock’s head. “Well, that explains my sore neck.” Sherlock said. His father smirked. 

“I thought so, that sleeping position couldn’t have been very comfortable. So we picked you up and carried you to your room so you could have a decent night’s sleep before school.” His father said. Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

“You could’ve just woken me up.”

“No, dear, we really couldn’t. We tried. You were just sound asleep.” Sherlock furrowed his brow. He stood up. “I’m going be late for school.” He looked outside, it was pouring out there. “Great, I’m going to be soaking wet before I’m 10 seconds out the door.”

John stood up “I’ll bring you to school, my car’s right up front. You’re going to Mycroft’s old school, yeah? That’s on the way, so it’s no problem at all.” He did a quick scan around the kitchen. “Unless you’d like me to clean up first? I did make a mess in here.” It’s true; there were grease spatters all over the stove from the bacon. 

“Sweetheart, you did enough already. And by the way, the person who cooks should never clean up afterwards.” She winked at him. “That’s my motto.”

“Sherlock, go get ready so John can bring you to school.” Sherlock left the kitchen and they heard him going up the stairs. “John, sweetie, come here.” He did as Mrs Holmes told him to. He walked over. She held out her hand and stuck some 20-pound notes in his hand. There were more that 2, definitely 4 or 5. ”That’s to cover your gas, the babysitting and because you had to stay the night.” John felt embarrassed, that was way too much. He cast his eyes downward. 

“And John” Sherlock’s father was speaking now. “We mentioned some renovations yesterday, we talked it over and we decided to start on them next week on Saturday. So if you can make it, you’re very welcome to help us out. We’re starting early, so come whenever suits best for you.”

“I will, thank you, again.” He tucked the money in his back pocket. Sherlock came bounding down the stairs and John went to join him in the hallway. 

“Are you ready?” Sherlock nodded. “Ok, let’s go.” He opened the door for Sherlock who took his backpack off the floor and swung it over his right shoulder. He turned his head towards the kitchen and yelled “See you later!” right as he was stepping over the threshold. Right before John closed the door he could hear Sherlock’s parents yell in unison: “Bye honey, bye John!”

When John turned around he saw Sherlock already standing beside his car in the pouring rain, he ran over quickly. “How did you know this is my car?” He opened the doors.

Sherlock quickly got inside the car. “You told me you were parked right outside and this is the only car I didn’t recognise from around the neighbourhood, so, again, not a very difficult leap to make.” 

“You truly are brilliant.” John said, full of amazement. He started the car, turned around and headed for Sherlock’s school.

“I know.” Sherlock said. 

John smirked. “Smartarse.”

“John! Language! I’m going to tell my parents that their new favourite guest is not so sweet after all.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Still smiling. “I bet you curse all the time.”

“Actually I don’t. Cursing is for idiots who can’t think of a good enough argument to win a discussion. I really don’t have a problem with that. I’m brilliant, as we have previously established.”

“Jeesh, what an ego.“ But he was smiling. He looked over at Sherlock and saw him smiling too. John’s smile turned into a snigger then, and in no time both of them were actually giggling in the car. 

“Stop giggling, I’m trying to concentrate on driving!”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were such an idiot that you can’t do two things at a time.” 

This made John giggle even louder. 

“S-s-s-s-stop! Please!” John heaved. 

When his school got in view, Sherlock stopped laughing and his smile dropped completely. School was no laughing matter. John noticed he had stopped giggling and looked over. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile left on Sherlock’s face.

John stopped the car in front of the school and shut the engine off. He turned to Sherlock.

“You don’t like school?”

“I like school just fine, I am a genius, remember? I just don’t like the students.”

“Are they giving you a hard time?” John asked, concern written all over his face.

Sherlock didn’t answer. He was looking down, trying to shield his face. John wasn’t a genius but he could deduce what that meant. 

“Give me your phone.” Sherlock looked over at John, the surprise clear on his face. 

“What?”

“Give me your phone.” He repeated sternly and did a motioning gesture with his hand. Sherlock leaned over to his backpack, took his phone out and handed it to John. 

“I’m going to put my number in this. If anything ever happens, if you’re ever in trouble, or you just need someone to talk to, I want you to call me. Ok? I know kids can be arseholes. Just try not to let them get to you.” He handed the phone back to Sherlock. “There.”

Sherlock looked at his phone. It said: ‘John Watson’ and his number right under it. Sherlock pushed the call button and his phone started calling John’s number. John’s phone started ringing. Well, not really ringing. It was more like classical music, but Sherlock didn’t recognize it. 

“Now, you have my number too, so you’ll know it’s me calling.” A short pause followed where Sherlock looked away from John’s piercing gaze. “What’s that tune from, I don’t recognize it.” 

“What? How can you not know that, have you never seen Harry Potter?” 

“No...”

“Read the books?”

“Can’t say that I have...”

“Wow, ok, next time we’re going to watch that.” He cast his eyes down and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

Before Sherlock could reply though, the first bell rang, indicating that the students should be on their way to their first class of the day. 

Sherlock shot up and leapt out of the car. Before he pushed the door closed he said, ”Thank you John, I never expected to have a nice evening last night, but I did. I’ll see you soon, I guess.” Sherlock shut the door, not waiting for an answer.

“I sure hope so,” was John’s response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you liked or didn't like!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-ed, forgive my mistakes!
> 
> Enjoy!

Sherlock slammed the car door shut and walked briskly to the entrance of his school. It was still raining. He went inside quickly, wiping the wet curls from his eyes, and nearly walked into someone. He righted himself, ready to apologise but then the person spoke.

“Who was that, your boyfriend?” It was a girl from the year above him, but Sherlock knew she was actually 2 years older than him (he’d skipped a grade a few years back). Sherlock thought her name was Sally, or something similar. Boring. It was one of the students who managed to change his good mood into a bitter one by opening her idiot mouth. 

“Yes, problem?” He really couldn’t resist.

“Yes, he’s a boy.” She sneered.

“Mhm, yes, a man almost, much more of a man than that idiot you call your boyfriend, anyway. You must be so jealous.”

“Of you? I don’t think so, freak.” 

“Keep telling yourself that. Bye, Kelly.” He walked away to his first class.

“It’s Sally, stupid!” He heard her call after him. 

“Whatever.” He murmured and kept walking towards his first class. The rest of the day went without any major instances. His last class of the day was chemistry. He walked into the classroom and sat by his chemistry partner. Her name was Molly. 

He sat down and she noticed his presence and immediately swivelled around in her chair. 

“You have a boyfriend?” There was excitement all over her face. ”It’s all around the school. I think I actually heard it from three different people. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sherlock sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend, I just said that to Sally to make her shut up.”

“Who is he then? I also heard he was really fit.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“His name is John, he’s actually a family friend. He’s, um, my babysitter, I guess.” 

“Lucky you, I wish my babysitter was a hottie.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Instead it’s just my 22-year-old cousin who happens to live on our street. Why was he dropping you off this morning, though? Don’t your parents normally do that?”

“He slept over.” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not like that, dirty girl. We kind of fell asleep on the couch and my parents thought it irresponsible that he should drive home if he was so tired. So they let him stay and he offered to drop me off this morning.”  
“Sounds like you guys get along well.”

“Yes, surprisingly enough he’s not a complete idiot.” Molly rolled her eyes at his favourite word to describe the entire human population. 

“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good deal then, a nice, fun, hot babysitter. Do you have a picture? You made me curious…”

“I don’t, but my mum took one we she found us asleep on the couch. Very embarrassing.”

“OMG, I have to see that!”

“Not a chance in hell.”

The bell rang then and Sherlock’s favourite teacher called for silence. “Quiet everyone. Get your book out on page 215 and, um, Ms Hooper, could you describe what you see on the graphic in the upper right corner please?” 

Class began and Sherlock started daydreaming, mostly about John, of course. He wondered when he’d see him again, probably soon enough with the renovations. But Sherlock hoped it’d be a bit sooner, or maybe he could make up an excuse to text him. He blushed as he remembered that John had actually given him his phone number. He started thinking of different excuses to text him and suddenly noticed there was an awful lot of moving around him. He shook himself from his daydream and looked at Molly. She was looking at him expectantly. “Sherlock? Did you hear me? You’ll be my partner, yeah?” 

“Of course.” They got up and moved to the back of the class to get some safety goggles and a lab coat. Sherlock knew she wasn’t one of those students who only wanted to be his partner because he would get them a good grade. Molly was actually very good at all the sciences and he knew she had an unusual interest in death. He liked her because she was clever, a bit weird and just a very nice person in general. 

He remembered how she was at the beginning of the year. When they first met, he didn’t especially like her. She would blush all the time, be very shy, always try to start up a conversation and fail miserably. When she found out he was only 13 and that he liked boys, though, that all stopped. Now she was basically the only person in school who he would willingly have lunch with, or have as a lab partner. 

“This seems like it will be a big assignment. You want to stay after school and do research in the library?” She asked him, not knowing that he’d already done most of it yesterday. 

“Sure,” he said. They got busy on their assignment and when the last bell rang, indicating school was over, they packed their stuff and headed towards the library. It was just a small library, not much there except some comfortable sofas, some computers, lots encyclopaedias and dictionaries, and a small science department. They headed for the science rows and stood in front of the 3 shelves that contained chemistry books. Molly scanned them over and took 2 books in her hands, she told Sherlock to get the one on the end of the row and then they went to go sit down. 

When Sherlock showed her his previous work she was surprised, but looked quite pleased. “Wow, you’ve nearly finished it. You don’t have to share this with me, Sherlock, I can do this on my own, I really don’t mind.”

“Nonsense, we’re partners, we have to share everything.” He winked at her. 

“Ok, but only if you’re sure.” Sherlock nodded again. “Ok, this is actually perfect because I don’t have a lot of time for homework this weekend.”

“Oh?” He couldn’t ask why because his phone rang, well, technically it buzzed. Sherlock hurried to look who it was. The screen lit up and it read ‘John Watson’. Molly saw it and went “oooooooh”. Sherlock rolled his eyes but hurried to pick up anyway.

 

“Hello, John?”

“Sherlock, are you okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“Your mum asked me to pick you up, so I was waiting for you outside, where I dropped you off this morning but I didn’t see you leave school, so I started to get worried. I thought something might’ve happened.” 

“I’m actually working on an assignment right now, with my lab partner. We’re in the library, I should hang up.” He was getting dirty looks from all over the library now.

“Oh, sorry, wait I’m coming over.” He hung up.

 

“What was that about?”

Sherlock looked at his phone. He couldn’t quite believe what just happened. Without looking up he answered Molly’s question. “John is here. He’s coming, here, to the library.” He still couldn’t really grasp what just happened, his confusion showing all over his face. “You get your wish though, you’ll see him in a minute.” He looked over at Molly now, who was beaming next to him. She turned her body towards him. 

“How’s my hair?” She asked.

“Like usual.” Sherlock answered truthfully.

“Sherlock, I meant like, is it nice enough? No strands of hair sticking out in weird places?”

“It looks fine.”

“Ok, good.” She leaned over to her backpack and took some lip-gloss out, applying it to her thinner than usual lips quickly. Then she looked down at her shirt and popped open the upper button. 

“Keep it in your pants, please.”

“Sherlock, you’re only 13, you can’t possibly understand how desperate I am for a good boyfriend. And that John of yours sounds perfect right now.” Molly was also 2 years older than Sherlock, which made her 15 years old. Sherlock tried to picture them together. Molly and John, but for some reason the thought repulsed him. John wouldn’t actually like Molly, right? 

The doors of the library swung open and John walked in briskly. Sherlock looked up, eyes wide in shock and a blush creeping on his face. Molly followed his gape. 

“Oh my… Hello John Watson.” She whispered while nudging Sherlock’s arm. “The rumour mill was right. What a babe.”

John, his hoodie covering most of his face, was drenched. The shoulders and arms of his hoodie, the same one he was wearing yesterday and today, was a completely different colour than the lower part, completely soaked. It must be pouring outside. He hadn’t noticed, being inside all day. Why was he that wet though? 

When he was standing in the middle of the open space of the library he shook his head a bit, the movement shaking the hood off his head. His right hand reached towards the sipper and pulled it down. He shrugged his sweater off, revealing his grey shirt. That was even worse, equally soaked and clinging to his chest. He looked around quickly and spotted Sherlock and Molly, he walked over to them immediately.

Sherlock heard Molly almost whimpering. When he came nearer and Sherlock could effectively make out each of John’s abs he heard Molly gasp and whisper “fuck.”

Sherlock agreed. 

John arrived at their table and looked from Sherlock to Molly, who were both just gawking at him. “Hey,” he said. Sherlock shook himself out of his trance. 

“Hello, John, this is Molly.”

He looked at her. “Hey.” No answer came, just more staring.

John went on, “I’m sorry to disturb your work, Sherlock, but we should get going. Otherwise I’m going to catch pneumonia, or something. I’ve been waiting outside for you in the rain for 15 minutes.” 

“Well, that’s hardly my fault, is it? I didn’t know you were waiting for me. You could’ve texted me and waited inside your car, idiot.” 

John nodded, “that would’ve been a lot smarter, yes, but I wanted to surprise you, for some reason. Anyway, can we go, I really want to take a hot shower.”

“Fine.” Sherlock started packing his things. He looked at Molly, who was still in awe. “Molly?” No reaction. “Molly!” He punched her in the arm. 

“Aw, yes, what?” There was an angry look on her face.

“I’ll work on this at home, you mentioned you were busy this weekend, so I’ll finish this up.” 

“No, Sherlock, you shouldn’t do the whole thing, that’s unfair. I’ll make some time to do my part.”

“Molly, I don’t mind, really, I love doing this. You know that.” 

“Yeah, don’t worry, Molly, I’ll help Sherlock. Chemistry is my easy, and Sherlock loves it when I help with his homework.” He had a quirky smile on his face. 

“What?” Sherlock, who was now shoving everything in his bag, snapped his head around to look at John. He saw the grin on John’s face. 

“Ugh, whatever.” He rolled his eyes again. He saw John throw a wink in Molly’s direction. He quickly looked at her and saw her turn beet red. 

“Um, ok, fine,” was her response. “I guess I’ll see you next week in class then?“

“Yes, see you next week, Molly, have a nice weekend.”

“Have a nice weekend, Molly, ‘till next time.” John winked at her again.

She giggled and said, “You too, John, it was nice to meet you.” 

“You, too, bye.” He waved a quick goodbye and started leaving the library. Sherlock stayed behind, waiting for a goodbye, or any other sign of recognition from Molly, but that never happened. She just stared at John’s behind. 

Sherlock sighed, shaking his head and thinking to himself “thank God, I’m not that hopeless” and followed John outside. 

When he opened the doors to the outside he was hit by the pouring rain. John was standing right outside, mostly sheltered from the rain by the building. He looked Sherlock over. “Do you have a coat or an umbrella? Because this rain is brutal.” 

“No.” 

“Ok, then we’ll have to make a run for it, I’m right over there.” He pointed at his car, about 100m away. “I’ll go first and open the door for you, I’m already soaked anyway.”

“O-okay.” 

“Ok, here I go.” He started running to his car, his shoulders up high, trying to shield his neck from the worst of the rain. He got to his car, opened it up, got inside and opened the door for Sherlock from the inside. Sherlock waited another second and then sprinted trying to save his hair from collecting too much rain with his hands. He practically dove into the car and when he was sitting down comfortably he pulled the car door closed. When the noise from the rain was drowned out he heard John sniggering. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“You.”

“And why is that?” 

“You have the most ridiculous run ever.” 

Sherlock frowned. “That’s because you didn’t see yourself before, you looked like the hunchback of the Notre Dame.”

Before John could reply though Sherlock’s phone buzzed, a message from Molly. 

**What was that??? I’m still not fully recovered. What a God‼‼‼! x Molly**

Sherlock sniggered while John started the car. 

“I think you have an admirer.” Sherlock told John.

“Excuse me?” 

“My friend Molly? From 5 minutes ago? She’s quite taken with you, it seems.”

“Really? She didn’t even say anything.”

Sherlock shrugged. “She’s shy, but I like her.” 

“You do?” John turned his attention to Sherlock, looking shocked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Not in that way. Girls… Not really my area.”

“Oh, I see. Do you have a boyfriend, then?”

“No.” Sherlock blushed. 

“Ah, so unattached, like me.” John concluded, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

They stayed quiet until they reached Sherlock’s house. When John had parked the car Sherlock said, ”I’ll run over first and open the door to let you in.” Before John could respond he was out of the car and running towards the house. 10 seconds later the door was opened and Sherlock was already inside. John came running in 5 seconds after that, he was holding a plastic bag. 

“Ah, finally inside.”

Suddenly it occurred to Sherlock he hadn’t asked the obvious questions yet, being distracted by John’s appearance. “So, why were you picking me up? Where are my parents?”

“I don’t know, it had something to do with Mycroft, I couldn’t really follow. Anyway, they said they’d be back around 8pm. Your mum said she’d leave some money on the kitchen table so we could order in… Ok, I think I’m going to take a shower now.” He looked down at his clothes, “I don’t know why this keeps happening, it’s like God wants to see me in your clothes or something, but do you have something dry for me?”

“Sure, go take your shower, I’ll put something outside the door for you.”

They went upstairs; John went into the bathroom and Sherlock into his bedroom. He stood in front of his wardrobe for the second time that day, trying to find something that would fit John. He went through his piles of shirts but then reasoned John was cold, and probably still would be after the shower, so he moved on to his sweaters. He came across one that had a beautiful dark blue colour that would match John’s eyes. That was the one. He took it out and held it in front his own torso. He turned to the mirror and noticed that the sweater would be a bit to big for him anyway. Perfect for John, he decided. 

He left his room, laid the sweater in front of the door to the bathroom, where he could hear the water running already and went downstairs. 

He took his schoolbag into the living room, pulled his laptop out and continued working on his chemistry assignment. He lost track of time, engrossed in his work, when all of a sudden John spoke.

“Why am I wearing this?” 

Sherlock turned around, and started laughing immediately. John looked ridiculous. Even though the sweater would be too big on Sherlock it did not fit John at all, as in, it was way to small. Sherlock guessed it was because of his strong build. John’s arms were hanging beside his body and Sherlock could tell the sleeves were at least 10cm too short. He could also see John’s pants, or Sherlock’s old pants, anyway, he could see the white rim of the red pants and then about 2 cm of John’s sun kissed belly. He also noticed John’s defined V cut of his stomach. He had stopped laughing by now and realised he must’ve been staring for quite a while now. John didn’t notice though, he was flapping his wet clothes around, trying to dry them.

Sherlock looked for an answer to Johns question and remembered why he first picked it out. “It matches your eyes?” 

“Well it doesn't match the rest of my body.” He draped his wet clothes over the back of the couch. “Maybe Mycroft has something that’ll fit me better?” John asked hopefully.

“You do not want to wear Mycroft’s clothes. He only has custom made suits. You’ll look even more ridiculous. I’ll pop your wet clothes in the dryer and they’ll be dry in no time. Just hang in there, you’ll live…” 

“Ugh, whatever.” John turned around and slipped into the kitchen. Sherlock was glad he didn’t see Sherlock’s face just then. Sherlock’s eyes had set on John’s lower back, dimples in full view because of the too short sweater. Sherlock had been lucky enough to have witnessed most of John naked, but that was definitely his favourite feature. So far anyway. 

Sherlock shook himself out of his fantasy, picked up John’s wet clothes and went to the basement to put them in the dryer. When Sherlock returned to the living room John was sitting on the couch. 

“What do you want to eat? I know it’s kind of early but I’m really hungry.”

“Don’t care. I’m not hungry.” 

“No, Sherlock, what do you want? You’re eating something, no matter what it is. And wouldn’t it be better if that were actually something you liked? 

“Fine.” He thought about is for a few seconds. “Curry.” 

“Great, I know a great place.”

He went back into the kitchen and Sherlock could hear him talking on the phone for a minute or two. 

He came back into the living room. “Ok, it’ll be here in 40 minutes, and I know what we can do in the meantime. Except if you wanted to do your homework, that is. But um… ” Sherlock wasn’t in the mood to finish his homework anyway, it seemed he couldn’t really concentrate when John was around. So he was open to any suggestions. John took his bag from the floor and took something out of it. “Remember this morning, when I told you about Harry Potter?” Sherlock nodded. “Well I have the DVDs at home, so I figured I’d bring the first movie, to see if you like it.” 

Sherlock remember the music witch had chimed from Johns phone that morning and figured if he didn’t like the movie he might enjoy the music instead. 

“Sure, yeah, you want to start now? Before dinner, or would you rather wait?”

“Let’s start now.” John put the DVD in, and sat himself next to Sherlock on the couch, much like yesterday. The DVD started playing and after the menu popped up, John hit play. The opening credits began and Sherlock immediately recognized the song from earlier.

“That’s your ring tone.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I like it, ‘s nice.”

“Mhm,” John agreed.

The movie began and within minutes Sherlock was engrossed in the story. About 30 minutes into it the bell rang. Having already watched the movie (and read all the books) John offered to get up, he paid the delivery guy, took all the necessities from the kitchen and arranged everything on the living room table. Sherlock wasn’t really paying any attention to the food, he took a container that smelled like curry and started eating. They ate in silence, both keeping their full attention on the film. Sherlock ate the whole container.

When the movie was over, Sherlock was pleasantly surprised. He’d liked it. He hadn’t gotten bored with it, or hadn’t fallen asleep. He decided he needed to know more about it.

“So you mentioned there were books? And more than one movie? I image there will be 7, one for each year?” 

“Well, there are 7 books, the last one was actually released not too long ago. And they haven’t yet filmed all the books yet; they’re at the fifth book right now. 

“And you have all of these at home? The books and the movies?”

“Yes, did you like it?”

“I did. Should I read the books, or are the movies better?”

“You have to read the books. I feel like sometimes details from the books that make the story more whole and believable get dropped in the movie, which is sad. So, yes, the books are must. But, you know, the movies are pretty great as well.”

“Ok, I’d like to borrow your books then, please.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course. I thought you might want to, so I brought them with me. They’re in the car.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, go get them, I’d like to start straight away.”

“Yes, sir.” He got up and returned within 2 minutes, with a slightly wet and still too small sweater on. He gave the bag with the books to Sherlock who opened it immediately and started scanning through them, checking the covers and reading the backs. He took the first book and started reading on the couch. Not paying any attention to John anymore. 

John didn’t want to disturb Sherlock so he started to clean up their mess. He did the dishes and put the kettle on for some tea. When that was done he walked back into the living room, putting a cup in front of Sherlock and putting one next to it, together with some biscuits. He sat down next to Sherlock, a bit closer than necessary, their shoulders touching, and turned the TV back on. Sherlock didn’t seem to notice him moving around. John thought he must really like the Harry Potter universe already. It pleased him because he felt like it was a big part of his life growing up. It was one of those things that reminded him of his sister. They were always excited when the new book came out, and they’d always go see the movies together in the cinema. That’s how Harry Potter became a part of John’s life. He hoped it would bring the same joy to Sherlock than it had him. 

He switched between channels absentmindedly until he heard Sherlock’s parents come home. Sherlock was still fully concentrated on the book and even when John got up from the couch, leaving one side of Sherlock’s body unpleasantly cold, he didn’t actually notice. He bid goodbye to Sherlock but was completely ignored. Sherlock’s parents were nice, as ever, and send him home with too much money in his pocket, many thanks, loving goodbyes and the promise of seeing him next week for the remodelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HP tune actually is my ring tone :) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've received some concerns about Sherlock's age. If you are worried about that as well I responded to those comments and explained my reasonings, so go check it out in between the comments!
> 
> I can safely say that nothing is going to happen between them when they're this age. Sorry, spoiler! But I'm just hoping no-one is being put off by the story because of that. 
> 
> Ok, so new chapter, guys.
> 
> Enjoy!

**‘These books are brilliant. –SH’**

**‘Sherlock, it’s 2a.m. Why are you still up?’**

**‘I’m reading. -SH’**

**‘Yes, I gathered that. Wait, did you say bookS? Plural? As in, you’ve finished the first one already?’**

**‘Yes, I actually just finished The Chamber of Secrets. How’s the next one, should I start reading it? -SH’**

**‘The Prisoner of Azkaban is actually my favourite. You should go to bed though, it’s way too late.’**

**‘I am in bed. And if it’s so late, why are you still up? -SH’**

**‘Don’t change the subject and I meant ‘go to sleep’. Shut your eyes, Sherlock. I know you can do it, I’ve seen it :)’**

**‘Fine, good night, John. -SH’**

**‘Sweet dreams, Sherlock.’**

Sherlock didn’t respond anymore to that last text and John hoped that meant he actually fell asleep instead of starting to read the third Harry Potter book. It wasn’t until the next morning when John came out the shower that he checked his phone. He had another message from Sherlock, dating back 5 minutes. 

**‘You were right. The third book is great. -SH’**

**‘Sherlock, did you keep reading last night? You should’ve slept, did you get any sleep al all?’**

**‘I did go to sleep. I just woke up early and started reading again. It’s already nearly 11 am. I’m just about to start reading the fourth book, looks very promising. -SH’**

**‘Are you planning on reading all the books in just one weekend?’**

**‘I might. -SH’**

**‘Don’t you have that chemistry assignment? You should finish that first. And you should go out sometime this weekend, staying inside isn’t healthy.’**

**‘Yes, mother, I’ll get on that right after I finished the fourth book. -SH’**

**‘Sherlock!’**

There was no answer.

**‘I should keep an eye on you at all times, too bad my shift starts at noon, otherwise I would’ve come over to make sure you’re nose is in the right books.’**

Again, Sherlock didn’t answer.

**‘No response, I hope this means you’re too busy doing your homework, but I doubt it.’**

Sherlock decided not to answer. He had better things to do right now, like finish these books. His homework could wait. He’d have all day tomorrow to finish that, anyway. He was right in the middle of the fourth book when his mother came into his room. 

“Sherlock, dear, I’m going into town. Is there anything you want from the bakery for dessert later?” Mrs Holmes knew all her boys loved baked goods and so every time she would go into town for some shopping, she’d bring something for her boys. 

Sherlock sat up from his lying down position in bed. “Mrs Hudson’s bakery?”

“Yes dear, what other bakery is there?”

“Can I come?”

“Of course, I’m leaving in 15 minutes.” She was quite stunned by Sherlock’s willingness to come along on her shopping trip, but she could guess what his motivations were and couldn’t hide her smile from her son. 

“Why are you so happy?” Sherlock asked.

“No reason, dear, I’m just glad you’re tagging along. A little mother-son time will do me some good.” She left his room and went downstairs. Sherlock quickly shut his book, remembering which page he was on and went to get ready. Fifteen minutes later he was standing in front of the door downstairs; teeth cleaned, hair more or less tamed, wearing actual clothes instead of pyjamas, and holding John’s Harry Potter book. 

“Ready?” His mother asked.

“Ready.” He confirmed.

They left the house, and drove into town. Sherlock was glad he had the book with him because his mother had a lot of things to do. After an hour of sitting in the car while his mother kept driving here and there to pick up this and that Sherlock started to get impatient. When were they going to the bakery? He didn’t want to be too obvious though, so he kept silent and tried to concentrate on his reading. 

Finally his mother pulled over near Mrs Hudson’s bakery. 

“You want to come inside to see what you want?”

Before Sherlock’s mother could blink, Sherlock was already standing on the sidewalk, shutting the door of the car. He walked to the store. He was so excited now he almost couldn’t contain the smile on his face. But he told himself to not be so bloody obvious about it. He walked between the two green tables and the chairs that were standing outside the bakery and walked in, his mother right behind him. When he’d stepped inside the store though, he lost his confidence. He kept the door open for his mother to let her through and waited until she passed him so that he could follow behind her. He scanned the inside of the shop really quick.

There were 5 other costumers, 2 couples and 1 person by himself, all eating some kind of cake and drinking tea or coffee from small cups. There wasn’t much room for many more people inside the little room itself. There were a total of 5 tables, all with 3 chairs around them and there were 2 armchairs by the window, they were taken by one of the couples. Mrs Hudson was standing behind the counter, near the register. She looked up and smiled at them. 

His mother had walked over to the counter and had started a conversation with Mrs Hudson. Sherlock could tell they were talking about him but he couldn’t care less right now. 

There was no sign of John. Sherlock tried to remember the conversation they’d had over the text message earlier. He could recall clearly that John said he’d start his shift at noon. It was almost 2 am now, so where could he be? The disappointment must’ve been all over his face because the next thing he knew his mother was by his side and asked him what was wrong. 

“Nothing is wrong, mother, I’ll be in the car.” He started turning around. 

“Sherlock, dear, tell me what you’d like for desert first.” She could guess what was the matter all of a sudden so didn’t really push him. “You want some muffins, or a fruitcake or some carrot cake? Come take a look at the counter, honey, then you can go back to reading your book.”

“I’m not hungry, just pick something.” He started turning around again but then he heard him. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock! I thought I recognized your voice! What are you doing here? Oh, Mrs Holmes, what a pleasant surprise.”

John stood in the doorway to the back of the shop, a plate full of cupcakes in his hands. He walked behind the counter to put them behind the glass. There was a big smile on his face. 

“John, hello, dear. I needed to get into town for some shopping and we love us some pastries, so Sherlock is picking something out for desert later.” His mother ruffled Sherlock’s hair. How embarrassing, he could feel the flush creeping on his face.

“Mother, stop it.” He walked over to the counter, checking out the pastries John was putting behind the glass. 

“I am glad you followed my advice, though.” Sherlock looked up and so did his mother, a surprised look on her face.

“What?” Sherlock uttered.

“Before, I told you to get out of the house, get some fresh air.” 

“Oh, that, well, um … ” Sherlock was speechless for a second. He came along because it was an excuse to see John, but he couldn’t just say that, could he? Thankfully his mother took pity on her son and stepped in, saving him from his misery. 

“I asked him to come along. I hate it when he’s up in his room, studying all day long. I agree, John, he should go out more.” She smiled between John and Sherlock, winking at her son really quick. Sherlock rolled his eyes. John was watching Sherlock again and asked, “so you were doing your homework, then, not just reading Harry Potter?”

Sherlock flushed. “I have all day tomorrow to do that.”

“Sherlock, you promised Molly you’d finish it.”

Sherlock threw his hands in the air, showing he was ready to give up the arguing. “Fine! I’ll finish it when we get home. Jeesh, it’s like I have three parents now. Unbelievable.” 

That made everyone laugh. He waited a while, trying to keep his own face from smiling along and when they grew silent again he asked John, “what are those cupcakes you’ve just brought in?” 

“Lemon cakes, fresh from the oven, still warm and everything.” 

“Ok, we’ll take four of those.”

John shot a glance at Sherlock, raised his eyebrows and then looked over at Sherlock’s mother, the question obvious on his face. 

“Well, you heard the boss, four please, dear.”

John started putting four lemon cakes in a box while Mrs Hudson accepted Mrs Holmes’ money. They chatted for a little while longer, about nothing in particular. Sherlock started to get impatient again, he got what he came for and wanted to go home and finish his assignment now. He subtly started tugging his mother’s sleeves and she got the hint. She bid goodbye to Mrs Hudson, told John she’d see him again soon and stepped out of the shop. Sherlock lingered behind, wanting to exchange a personal goodbye with John but it looked like he was just busy with another costumer, so he followed his mother out the door. Just as he stepped through though, he heard John almost yell, “bye, Sherlock!” He did a step back, leaned backwards and looked back into the store. John was still standing behind the counter, his hand raised up into a wave. Sherlock called back, “Bye John” and then he threw a wink in his direction. He quickly left the shop and followed his mother to the car. She was already seated inside giving her son curious glances, and started the car. 

“I love that you guys are getting along so well. I was so afraid last week when I told you he would come by. But now I’m so glad I asked him. He’s such a good boy, and he seems to have taken a liking to you. And you to him, too, right?”

Sherlock was still flushing from that weird goodbye a minute ago, and now he flushed even more. Had his mother noticed how bloody obvious he was being? Had John noticed? God, he hoped not, that would really be the death of him. He tried to compose himself and told himself to be cool. 

“John is fine,” was all he was willing to say about it. 

“Mhm, yes, I agree, John is very fine indeed, such a handsome young man.” Oh, OH, he realised now how that had sounded now, he looked over at his mother. She was definitely toying with him. 

“Ew, mum, that’s not how I meant it.” Sherlock was honestly shocked his mother would say such a thing.

“I know, honey, I’m just playing. Anyway, those lemon cakes smelled divine. Good choice, Sherlock, and they’ll go perfectly with the diner I planned. Want to help me cook later?” 

“I have to finish my homework first, I did promise Molly.”

“Ok, that’s fine. You can help me when you’re done. ”

The rest of the car ride was silent. When they got home Sherlock went straight up to his room to finish his work, about 3 hours later he was satisfied with the result and declared himself homework free for the rest of the weekend. He went downstairs to help his mum a bit with dinner, but really he just sat on a stool, peeled 2 potatoes and read the instructions from the cookbook aloud to his mother. About an hour later his father and brother came back home, they had gone golfing all day with his father’s colleagues. Mycroft loved feeling important and grown-up and he was obsessed with socialising and networking with important people. He was very ambitious and because he was studying at a business school and he had shown great interest in their father’s company, his dad would often bring Mycroft along to these company events. 

Sherlock was glad to see them home though. Their family was complete again. The evening went on like many others: they ate diner and dessert, everyone was very pleased with Sherlock’s choice of dessert and after the washing up Sherlock made everyone some tea and they sat down on the sofa’s in the living room, browsing through Netflix. He was sitting next to Mycroft when suddenly his phone buzzed. Mycroft looked around quizzically “who was that?” 

“Oh, that’s me.” Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket and couldn’t restrain a goofy grin. 

**‘So, I’ve just finished all my duties for today. How about you, did you finish yours?’**

**‘I did finish my homework, if that’s what you’re so concerned about. -SH’**

**‘I’m not sure if I believe you. You could say lots of things right now. How am I to be sure?’**

**‘Ugh, fine, wait a minute I’ll send it to you. What’s your email? -SH’**

**‘john.h.watson@mail.uk’**

Sherlock went upstairs to his computer, leaving his family behind in the living room. Mycroft was baffled that Sherlock was texting someone, but Sherlock’s parents could guess who Sherlock’s recipient could be. 

**‘Ok, done. -SH’**

**‘Satisfied? -SH’**

**‘Not really, I found an error.’**

**‘You did not. -SH’**

**‘Yes I did, I’ll send it back.’**

Sherlock was shocked, John was right. There was an error, it was small, but a mistake none the less. How embarrassing, he never made mistakes, definitely not in chemistry homework. 

**‘That’s weird, I never make mistakes.’**

**‘It happens to the best of us.’**

**‘Not to me, though, I always get top grades.’**

**‘And you’ll get one for this as well, it’s really good, Sherlock, don’t worry about it. You were probably just distracted.’**

**‘Perhaps.’**

He kept his answer short hoping John noticed Sherlock was done with this topic. John didn’t respond, so he guessed he got the message. Sherlock was actually sure he had indeed been distracted. Very distracted. He caught himself doodling John’s name more than once. Hearts, John’s initials, John’s full name and John’s name inside hearts were scattered all over his scrap paper. Every time he caught himself doodling he was disgusted with himself. How could he be acting like a stupid love-struck teenage girl? He’d always laughed at such girls, he’d often laugh at Molly, for example, for how desperate she was and how she’d reacted to John. And now Sherlock was doing exactly that. It was rather pathetic, but he just couldn’t help it. He was completely, utterly and desperately head over heels for one John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I image Sherlock's doodling to be something like this: http://allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com/post/120723663452/this-would-totally-be-all-over-teenage-sherlocks


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the people who have commented, left kudos, subscribed and bookmarked I have to say thank you! I really appreciate it. I actually never expected that, but I'm loving it! 
> 
> I haven't updated in over a week, for which I'm very sorry. I already finished the next chapter so as soon as that is beta-ed it'll be up. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Over the next week they kept on texting. The conversation was always light and fun. Sometimes they were up texting all night until one of them fell asleep waiting for the next text. By now, John had well realised Sherlock wasn’t a fan of sleeping. On Thursday night Sherlock told John that Molly and he received a perfect mark on their assignment. John was very pleased and suggested to help Sherlock with all his assignments.   
**  
‘That’s really unnecessary, my grades a practically perfect in every course. -SH’**

**‘Show off!’**

**‘I’m not showing off, it’s the truth. -SH’**

**‘You’re still a bit of a pompous arse.’**

**‘Not true. -SH’**

**‘Yes true.’**

**‘Not true! -SH’**

**‘Yes true!’**

**‘Unbelievable. I’m going to be the bigger man here and let this one slide. -SH ’**

**‘How gracious and smart of you. You must be a genius.’**

**‘I’m going to ignore that. -SH’**

**‘:)’**

**‘I’ll see you Saturday? -SH’.**

Sherlock was really looking forward to the weekend. John was coming over on Saturday and Sunday for the remodelling. 

**‘Yes, sir!’**

**‘John! -SH’**

**‘:)’**

**‘Stop with the smileys! -SH’**

**‘Yes, sir!’**

**‘John! God! You’re a pain! -SH’**

**‘Fine, I’ll stop. I will see you on Saturday. Sweet dreams!’**

**‘Goodnight. -SH’**

When Saturday morning rolled around Sherlock was getting impatient again. He hadn’t slept at all last night and John would be here any minute. He was waiting downstairs, trying to hide his impatience by making some tea for himself and his parents. They were having a big breakfast and Sherlock was just watching them eat while absentmindedly tapping his foot on his stool. 

The bell rang. Sherlock shot up from his chair, then realised he was being obvious again and slowly walked through the kitchen to the front door. He opened it and there he was, smiling broadly. He was wearing old, worn-down clothes, he was holding a backpack in his right hand and under his left arm he had tucked a pillow. 

“What’s the pillow for?” Sherlock asked. He was curious. 

“Sleeping? It is used for supporting your head while lying down.” 

“Yes, thank you, I know what it is generally used for, I was merely wondering why you have it with you.”

“Oh, didn’t your mother tell you? I’m staying the night. She called me earlier to tell me Mycroft wasn’t coming home this weekend because of the noise we’ll be making around the house, so she said I could just sleep over in his room. It’ll be a lot easier and we’ll get more work done, I guess.”

“No, she didn’t say.” John was going to sleep over again? Sherlock was even more excited then before. He stepped aside while trying to contain is delight. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” John walked in, put his bag near the bottom of the stars and balanced his pillow on top of it. He walked into the kitchen where they could hear his parents talking.

“Good morning!” he pronounced. Sherlock noticed John was way too cheerful in the morning. “What a beautiful day to do some inside work.” John was kidding; it was looking atrocious outside. Dark clouds were looming, there were strong winds and the reports said thunderstorms were headed their way. 

His parents laughed and greeted John in an equally cheerful manner. When they finished breakfast Sherlock’s father and John went upstairs, to the attic to get started while Sherlock stayed downstairs with his mother, putting everything in the dishwasher. He promised his mother to help with lunch and dinner later but went upstairs to his room for the time being. He did a bit of homework and some reading; he was reading the last Harry Potter now. At around 10pm John walked into his room with a big cardboard box. 

“What’s that?” Sherlock asked. John turned the box around and Sherlock saw his name written on the side. 

“I guess it’s some of your old stuff. Your dad told me to bring it to you, see if there’s anything you still want from this. He said he’d throw the rest out.”

Sherlock swivelled his chair around, curious what could be in the box now. “Well, open it up and let’s see.”

John put the box down and opened the lids. There was a cacophony of stuff in the box: old drawings and paintings form Sherlock, children’s books, clay figurines, old baby clothes and a bunch of teddy bears. John picked out a few of Sherlock’s old clothes. 

“These are adorable.” He spotted a pair of tiny shoes and dug them out as well. “Oh my god, look! They’re so tiny. It’s like they’re for a doll or something. Wait, were they for a doll?” He looked around in the box, looking for other signs of a doll but he couldn’t find any. 

“No, they’re actual shoes. I was standing up and walking quite early. Genius, as you remember.” He tapped his forehead with his index finger. ”So the shoes my parents had to get me were really small.” 

“Of course, how could I forget.” John replied while rolling his eyes. 

“Well, is there anything you’d like to keep?” 

Sherlock came closer and started rummaging through the box, he found an old cuddly toy, picked it out and threw in on his bed. John couldn’t tell what it was exactly. He could only tell it was pretty worn-out and that it used to be black and yellow but that was as far as he got.

”The rest can go, I don’t really care. You should go by my mother first, though, she’s sentimental about this stuff. She probably wants to keep all of that.” 

“Will do.” He shut the box again, picked it up and left Sherlock’s room. 

Sherlock stayed up in his room until 11am and then wandered down to see how he could help his mother. When he got into the kitchen he saw lots of fruit lying around. 

“Are you planning on doing smoothies or just a fruit salad?”

“You’re choice, honey, do whatever you like.” 

“Do we have yoghurt?”

“I think so.” She opened the fridge and pulled a container out. “Here you go.” She handed it over to Sherlock.

“I think I’ll do some smoothies, then.” 

“That’s great, those vitamins will do those boys some good.”

Sherlock loved making smoothies, he always fancied himself to be an excellent mixer. He loved trying different fruits together and finding out which fruit tasted perfect with which other fruit. He spotted some berries, bananas, a mango and passion fruit. Excellent, he could do great things with those! An hour later, after he had washed and peeled everything, he’d made two different kinds of smoothies. One had only berries and bananas; they had a dark purple colour. The other smoothie had bananas, strawberries, mango and passion fruit and had more of an orange colour to it. 

He was quite satisfied with his work. He started pouring the smoothies in different glasses when the working boys walked in. Sherlock could see the rim of John’s shirt around his neck was a bit wet from a sweat he had worked up, his hair was messy from dragging his hand through it at different times during the day and his clothes were showing smears of dust. He was just a bit dirty all over and Sherlock loved it. 

All through lunch he couldn’t keep his eyes off of John. It was a good thing John and his parents were all very sociable people, they were chatting throughout lunch and no one really paid any attention to the little love-struck teenager who was also sitting at the table. He did get lots of compliments for his smoothies, though. 

When lunch was over everyone went back to work. Now and then John and Sherlock’s father needed an extra hand to carry something down and Sherlock happily volunteered, shocking his father and his mother. Near the end of the afternoon Sherlock’s homework was done and he’d almost finished the last book. He’d wanted to cherish the last part - he still had about a hundred pages left to read - so he decided to wait until that night to finish it. 

At about 5 pm Sherlock went downstairs to help his mother with dinner. He stepped into the kitchen and saw his mother reading a book. 

“Why aren’t you making dinner?” Sherlock asked.

“I decided to get some take away. What do you think about sushi?” Sherlock was surprised; they never really ate sushi, only on special occasions like birthdays or to celebrate Mycroft’s or Sherlock’s good grades. 

“Why?”

“I want to surprise your dad, you know how much he likes it, and he’s been working so hard today. Do you think John likes sushi?”

“I do.” John was standing in the doorway with another box in his hands. 

“Lovely, is there anything in particular you like? Don’t tell my husband though, it’ll be a surprise for him.”

“As long as there is lots of soy sauce and wasabi I’m good. And I won’t say a thing.” He winked at Mrs Holmes and carried on moving the boxes to the basement. 

“John, darling?” John was already out of sight but walked back into the doorway. 

“Mhm?” 

“I’ll call it in right now and it will probably be here within the hour. So why don’t you go tell father to quit for the day and then you can take a shower if you’d like.” 

“Ok, sounds good!” He disappeared again. A few minutes later, while his mother was calling in their order, Sherlock heard John trudging up the stairs again. 

An hour later they were all sitting down for dinner. 

“Mhm, this is delicious, I can’t even remember the last time I ate sushi. I almost forgot how much I love it.” John declared. He was smiling down at his plate filled with sushi rolls.

“I’m glad you like it, John.” His mother answered. “Oh my,” she was looking out the window now. “It looks like it has finally started to rain, it looks brutal out there.” They could actually hear the rain hitting the windows. “Hopefully it will fly over quickly.” 

It wasn’t until around 11 that night that the storm actually hit with its full force. Sherlock was already lying in bed, warm cup of tea on his night stand and book in his hands when he heard the thunder roaring outside. The curtains in front of his windows did their best to hide the flashing of the lightning but Sherlock’s room would still light up slightly when lightning struck. 

They had had a lovely evening; John and Sherlock had watched the second Harry Potter movie, accompanied by Sherlock’s parents. They decided to go to sleep soon after that and had left John and Sherlock by themselves. Sherlock had offered to make some tea then and left John to start up the third movie. When he had come back into the living room, with two cups of tea and biscuits, he could tell John had put the third movie in but he’d fallen asleep on the couch shortly after that. He was probably really tired from howling boxes up and down the stairs all day. 

Sherlock had woken him gently and told him to go to bed. He had turned the TV off, put the biscuits back into the kitchen and followed John upstairs. So now he was sitting in his bed, room completely dark except for his reading light and the occasional lightening flash, sipping his teacup and enjoying his read. He loved the thunder outside; it was a perfect mood setter for his book. 

He was engrossed in his book when he thought he’d heard some knocking. He tore his eyes away from his book and looked up at his door but nothing happened. He had probably mistaken it for the thunder outside. He had carried on reading his book when he’d heard it again, this time accompanied by a soft “Sherlock, are you up?”

Was that John? Why was he still up? He had fallen asleep on the couch less than an hour ago, shouldn’t he be sleeping right now? Maybe something was the matter. 

“Yes, John, I’m still up, what’s wrong?” Sherlock stayed in bed, he was too comfortable to get out but a moved up slightly, leaning his back against the headboard. John opened the door slowly and stepped inside Sherlock’s room for the second time that day. He was wearing his pyjamas and Sherlock could tell he’d already been lying and tossing around in bed by the way his hair was sticking up. 

“Nothing is the matter, well, maybe there is. Um, this is pretty bizarre but um, it appears I can’t sleep.”

“What do you mean?” John couldn’t be afraid of the thunder, could he? 

“Um, first of all, this is a strange house, with strange noises, that always throws me off a little. Second of all, Mycroft’s room freaks me out. It is way too clean and neat. And third of all, that storms is um, … , yeah.” He decided not to finish that sentence. 

“You didn’t have any problem falling asleep before…” Sherlock didn’t really understand why John couldn’t sleep right now. It was storming earlier when John fell asleep in the living room so why was he unable to sleep now?

“Well yeah, but the company helps, I guess.”

“So what do you want to do? Wait here until the storm is over? Switch rooms, maybe?” Sherlock didn’t really know what to expect. 

“I was thinking,” he took a deep breath, “maybe I could just take Mycroft’s matrass and move it in here? Would you mind if I slept here? Do you think your parents mind?” 

This threw Sherlock off a bit; he was not expecting that. “Um, ok, I don’t mind. Go for it, but I’m not helping you. I’m quite comfortable here.”

“No, that’s fine.” He turned around to go back to Mycroft’s room. “I’ll be right back.”

When he came back in he was holding his pillow and his duvet, he dropped them on the floor and went back out to get the matrass. John had left his door and Mycroft’s door open so Sherlock could hear him shuffling about and cursing quietly. After a few minutes John appeared in the doorway, holding the matrass by his side, dragging it on the floor. He let it fall alongside Sherlock’s bed and flopped down on top of it. 

“I hope I didn’t wake your parents up. That was harder than it looks.”

“I’m sure it is.” He could help but smile at that.

“Don’t laugh at me, that matrass is heavy.”

“I just never thought I’d see the day. John Watson going through all that trouble just because he’s afraid of a little thunder.”

“I’m not afraid!” He was trying to arrange his bed now, putting his pillow near Sherlock’s head and trying to cover his body with the duvet. 

Sherlock decided to let it go. He was sure John was embarrassed enough as it was and he didn’t really want to chase him away now that he was so close. He decided to put his book aside in favour of making some conversation with John. He waited till John lay down completely before he started talking again. 

“So what does the ‘H’ stand for?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Your email? John H. Watson?”

“I’m not telling.” 

Sherlock laughed. “Is it that horrid?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ve made me even more curious. Now I have to know it.”

“Well, I’m not telling, so you’ll have to find another way.”

“Ok, I will. Maybe your non-verbal body language will give me enough clues.” He leaned over the side of his bed to better see John’s face. “Um, Henry?”

John just glared at him through almost closed eyelids. His mouth was forming a straight line. No smiles to be seen. 

“Hank?”

Again no response, just more glaring.

“Harry?”

“Sherlock, stop it. Those aren’t even awful names.”

“Oh, ok, maybe it’s a more unusual name, then, thanks for the tip.” John laughed at that. “Horatio?”

“Ugh, Sherlock, just drop it!” 

“Helmut? Harrison? Herman? Hillel?” He was running out of names now. He could only think of one more name, a name he just had to mention. 

“Oh, I got it!” 

“No, Sherlock, please stop!”

“Hedwig!” 

It was quiet for a moment and then John burst out laughing and Sherlock quickly joined him. 

“Ssshh, John, shush, we have to be quiet or we’ll wake my parents.” 

John quieted his laughing down to some sniggering. 

“Sorry, but can you imagine that? Hedwig?” He pondered on that for a second. “Mhm, I’d love that actually. Hedwig is awesome.”

“Yeah, he is.” Sherlock replied. 

“How is it with your books, by the way? I saw you reading the last one earlier. You’re a quick reader. All the Harry Potter books in one week? Amazing!”

“They’re really good. I loved every one of them. I can’t wait to see the movies now.”

They chatted until the wee hours of the morning, first about Harry Potter, then about other books, then about schoolwork and then about college. At two in the morning, though, John suggested they go to sleep. He was going to have to do some hard labour the next day and needed at least six hours of sleep. Sherlock agreed.

The storm had long passed by then but both boys hadn’t really noticed. So by the time Sherlock turned off his nightlight his room was dead quiet and dark. Sherlock moved to the edge of his own bed, facing his room and after a while his sight adjusted to the darkness. If he leaned over the edge of his bed slightly he could watch John sleep. He stared at him for hours, at first not feeling sleepy at all. But after a while his mind did need some sleep so he turned over, closed his eyes and listened to John’s regular breathing. It appeared to be the perfect soothing and relaxing noise to help him fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Come pay me a visit on tubmlr: http://allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, everyone! Thanks again for the comments and likes. It still amazes me that people are actually reading something I wrote. 
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter!

“I like your room.”

Sherlock had reached over to sip from his water, letting John know he was awake. John had already been up for a while. He’d heard someone take a shower about half an hour ago. The strange noises woke him up.

“It’s much cosier than your brother’s and I like the blues on the wall and your ceiling. It reminds me of my own room, I remember having those as well.” He was pointing up at the stars on Sherlock’s ceiling. Sherlock hung over the side of his bed and followed John’s gaze. 

“Yeah, I like it too.” He was looking at his ceiling, checking the pattern of the stars and planets he had put there about 3 years ago. Most of them were still hanging securely. Only a few of them had fallen down over the years. As he was looking up at the ceiling he hadn’t noticed John wasn’t anymore.

“Your hair looks amazing.”

That was sarcasm, right? His hands shot up to his hair, trying to tame it. It almost made him fall off his bed, onto John’s matrass. He was just able to put his hands down to keep himself from falling. He was hanging over the side of his bed, head hanging down, two hands on John’s matrass, cursing at himself for his clumsiness when he heard John laugh. 

“You don’t have to look so scared, I was trying to give you a compliment.” Sherlock strained his neck, trying to look up at John so he could read his face. “My hair is so boring, it just lays flat against my scalp. Boring. Yours is … fascinating.” While he was pondering for the right adjective he lifted his hand towards Sherlock’s hair and started winding a curl around his finger.

Sherlock couldn’t move. Was John actually touching his hair? Twirling his fingers through it? Telling him how much he liked it? Sherlock had no idea how to react to that so he just didn’t. He stayed silent, not moving an inch in the hopes that John would do something to break their little awkward moment. 

John cleared his throat and pulled his hand away quickly as if he just realised what he was doing. Sherlock slowly moved away from him, increasing the distance between them. That seemed like a good idea. He was sure he was beet red by now so he thought best to hide his face a bit. He lay down on his matrass again, trying to compose himself and thinking hard to say something intelligent while completely changing the subject and trying to reduce the awkwardness.

“Um.. Did you sleep well? On the floor?” That wasn’t intelligent at all, but it did the job. 

“Yes, fine.” It was a rather short and abrupt answer. Was John mad at him now?

“Okay, good.” 

“I’m going to get dressed and get some breakfast. I’ll see you in a bit.” John got up and left Sherlock’s room quickly, leaving the self-made bed behind in a mess. 

Sherlock sat up, thinking and going over what had just happened in his mind. Did he do something wrong? Was it something he said or did? He sat there contemplating until his mother was nearly standing beside him. 

“Sherlock! Honey!” She must’ve been calling him for a while. He just hadn’t heard her at all. 

“Mm? Yeah?” 

“Can you come down for breakfast, please? We’re all waiting for you.”

“Sure.” He got up from the bed, put on his dressing gown and followed his mother downstairs. He could smell breakfast before he entered the kitchen. He could smell toast, eggs, butter, coffee and fresh orange juice. He sat down at the empty seat next to his mother and took a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee. He wasn’t hungry but that orange juice smelled too good to ignore and he needed that coffee to think. 

“So, um, John? I noticed you slept over in Sherlock’s room?” 

“Yes, sorry, Sherlock said it’d be okay, I’m sorry if it wasn’t. I won’t happen again. It’s just, you know, strange house with strange noises. I just couldn’t sleep.” He was blushing profusely and Sherlock felt himself join in.

“No, darling, it’s fine. I was just curious. As long as you clean up your mess later …” She said, accompanied by a wink. “I hope you did get some sleep, though, there is a lot of work to be done today.

“Yeah, I think I still got a good 6 hours of sleep. Sherlock wouldn’t shut up, though, we stayed up talking ‘till 2.” 

Sherlock looked up at John. He was so confused. “Well, you kept asking me all these questions. I was just being polite. If you wanted to sleep you should’ve just said so.” Sherlock was angry now, why was it his fault? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Sherlock, I’m just kidding.” John was looking at him, concern around his eyes.

“Honey, John was just teasing. Don’t be mad.” She patted him on the shoulder and moved her hand on his back, trying to reassure him. Her hand moved upwards towards his hair. “Darling, you should do something about this, your hair is a right mess.” She was trying to lighten up the mood a bit, but little did she know she just made it worse. Sherlock didn’t even dare look at John. He kept his head down and could feel his ears burn. He did hear someone dropping one of their utensils on the floor, though, and a second later he knew who. 

“I’m sorry.” He heard John say right before he heard his stool scrape over the floor. Sherlock decided he couldn’t handle the awkwardness anymore so he just stood up, announced he was going to take a shower and left the kitchen. He heard his mother call out for him but he just ignored it. He needed a shower to set his mind straight. After the shower he went into his room and he noticed the matrass was gone. His mind still hadn’t settled over the whole thing yet so he decided to pick up his violin. He needed to think. He stood in the middle of his room, his back to the door and facing the window. Before he began though, he closed the door behind him and went to open the window. The weather hadn’t been atrocious today as it had been the days before: the rain had stopped, the sun had come through the clouds occasionally and the breeze was mild. He opened the window as far as he could, allowing the breeze to travel into his room. 

He stood in front of the window for a while and enjoyed the wind through his recently dried hair. After a minute or so he went back to the middle of the room and held his violin in the right position. He concentrated on the noises from outside: the cars driving by, the wind sweeping through the trees, dogs barking, people laughing as they passed their house. He found a nice rhythm and started playing, the noises from outside helping him to compose. Once in a while though he heard someone inside the house laugh, curse or drop something on the floor. He tried to drown the noises out but it wasn't that easy. He stepped closer to the open window and further away from his door. He was standing rather close to the open window now and he was sure the whole street could hear him play. Normally he didn’t like that. His music was his alone but today he didn’t care. He needed to get this out of his system. 

Although the weather was better today that still didn’t mean it was warm. At first he didn’t really mind the chill, it helped him concentrate and he forgot about it soon enough when he was so engrossed in composing. The longer he played, though, the more he felt his finger grow stiff because of the cold so after a while – god know how long it actually was, an hour, maybe two – he put his violin on his bed, sat down next to it and started rubbing his hands together to warm them up again. 

“You’re amazing.” Sherlock was startled again. He hadn’t heard John walk in.

“So you keep telling me. How long have you been standing there?” S

“We could hear you play for the last 3 hours, it’s actually lunch time if you want to come down. I came to get you. You should eat something. I saw you only drank some juice this morning. I’m glad I heard you play, though. From the moment you told me you play the violin I was curious and hoping one day I would hear some of that magic. Luckily for me I didn’t have to wait that long. I just knew you were going to be brilliant at that too.”

Sherlock revelled in all his complements. He loved it, but he didn’t know how to deal with them. Again, he was blushing so hard he could feel his whole face warm up. So the only thing he could think of was look away, say “thanks”, and change the subject asap, “let’s get something to eat.”

Mrs Holmes had made some soup for lunch. It was actually perfect to warm up a bit. When his mother filled up a bowl it took Sherlock five minutes before he actually took a sip. He was just warming up his hands by holding the bowl. After a while his mother told him to start eating before it had cooled down completely so he finished his bowl of soup like the good boy he was.

After his soup Sherlock felt like he could act normally around John again and conversation flowed easily between the four of them. When lunch was over Sherlock decided to help his father and John with the moving, as he didn’t have any more homework. He was bringing a box down to the basement when he misstepped his foot. He dropped the box he was holding – luckily full of clothes – and was just able to hold himself up at the banister. He let out a cry of pain and his mother was standing on top of the staircase within seconds. 

“Sherlock? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I hurt my foot. Can you help me up the stairs?” 

“Sure.” She came down to where he was still clutching the banister and together they wobbled to the kitchen. Sherlock was trying not to put too much weight on his foot. It hurt but he didn’t think he broke it. Hopefully it was just a sprain. 

He was sitting in the kitchen, his mother making him a cup of tea, and Sherlock trying to peel of his sock when John walked by, immediately noticing something was the matter. 

“What happened?” He asked while stepping into the kitchen.

“Sherlock hurt his foot stepping down the stairs. I should’ve fixed that light bulb before you guys started working there, I just forgot about it. I’m so sorry, honey.” She handed the tea to Sherlock. 

“Mum, it’s fine, it’s not broken or anything. I’ll just be careful with it for a while and then it’ll be fine.”

“Let me see.” John stepped closer to where Sherlock was sitting on one stool and was resting his injured foot on another stool. 

“Mhm, it doesn’t look broken, indeed. Wiggle your toes.” Sherlock wiggled his toes. 

“Are you able to stand on it?”

“Yes, I mean it hurts, but not that much.” 

“It’s probably sprained. It’s already starting to swell a bit. Here, see?” He pointed at the midsection of his foot. “Just keep it elevated, stay of it and you need ice, lots of ice.”

“See, already a doctor!” His mother exclaimed. 

John smiled at her. “Mhm, not really, we see these injuries all the time at rugby. Come on, I’ll help you to the couch.”

Sherlock swung his injured foot from the stool and made to stand up, ready to jump to the couch on his one working foot but all of a sudden he found himself in John’s arms. John had picked him up, bridal style. He carried Sherlock through the door, turning himself sideways so that Sherlock’s feet went through the door first and then carefully let him down onto the couch. 

“God, you’re heavy.” 

Sherlock laughed at that. “I’m really not. That was quite unnecessary though, I could’ve just jumped here.”

“Yeah, but with all your clumsiness you probably would have fallen again.”

“I’m not clumsy!” 

“Suuuuure.” 

“John! Ugh, just go get me my tea and some biscuits. And um, my book, upstairs on my nightstand.” John just stood there, looking at him, eyebrows raised as if in challenge. Sherlock knew what he wanted. “Please?” 

“I’m on it!”

*******

A few hours later Sherlock shut the last Harry Potter book. 

“How was it?” 

Sherlock turned to his left quickly where John was enjoying a cuppa. How long had he been sitting there?

“Brilliant. Thanks for letting me borrow them. You can have them back now, I guess.”

“I’m glad you liked them.” He smiled at him. “How’s your foot?”

“Fine.”

“How’s the swelling?” He didn't wait for an answer and climbed over the space between them and picked up the icing from around Sherlock’s foot. 

“Mhm, that’s actually not looking bad at all. If you wrap it properly I bet you can just walk into school tomorrow, without any trouble.”

“Great.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and John laughed. 

“Anyway, I should get going. I was just waiting for you to get out of your reading trance so I could say goodbye. So, um, I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, John.” John left the living room and Sherlock checked the time on his mobile. Almost dinnertime. John probably wanted to go home to have Sunday dinner with his family.

He heard his parents and John talking for a while in the kitchen and then heard the front door open and close. John had left their house and Sherlock let out a big sigh, like he had been holding his breath for the last two days. 

*******

“John is such a good boy.” 

It was later that evening, they were sitting in couch, watching some documentary about insects, Sherlock in between his parents. Sherlock had some left over soup from lunch for dinner earlier and was now eating some pieces of fruit for dessert. His mother had her arm wrapped around her son and she was stroking his hair. “I hope you’ll find a boyfriend just like him: handsome, sweet, smart and caring.”

“Huh?” he glanced away from the TV screen, confused, looking up at his mother through his eyelashes.

“Oh, honey, don’t look so shocked, a mother can tell. We don’t mind, you know that, right?” She looked over at her husband, trying to get some confirmation from him. It looked as if he wasn’t following their conversation at all but then he put his arm around his son and planted a kiss on top of Sherlock’s head. His father was a man of few words but what he said then were words Sherlock would remember forever. “Your mother is right. Be with whoever you want to be. We don’t mind if it’s a girl or a boy or something in between. We just want you to be happy.” He gave his son one more squeeze and then turned back to the TV screen, his mind focusing back on the documentary.

“Good.” He didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just smiled shyly. He knew his parents weren’t homophobic. He had never heard them say anything condescending about the gay community and he remembered his mother saying ‘oh what a beautiful family’ once when they were standing in line behind a gay couple with two kids. So he knew they might be supportive if he ever had the guts to tell them. He was relieved his mother found out before he felt like he had to ‘come out of the closet’, just because that always seemed like a trigger for awkward conversations. He couldn’t help wondering though why she would say this at this time. Did she notice his ridiculous crush? Is that why she said that about John? Or had she known way before and did John just remind her of the perfect future son-in-law? Sherlock couldn’t blame her. John was perfect, indeed.

“Don’t grow up too soon, though. I like you like this and I’d like to enjoy this as long as possible.” Sherlock had looked down again, it seemed like the awkwardness could not be avoided. She lifted her other hand, put her fingers under Sherlock’s chin and steered his head so they were looking directly into each other eyes. She was smiling slightly and Sherlock thought he could recognize some pride in her features. “Do you promise?” 

Sherlock didn’t know what else to say so he just nodded and said “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> Mr and Mrs Holmes are loosely based on my parents. My brother came out more than 10 years ago but he didn't actually have to have that conversation with my parents because they knew long before that and they were really supportive. I sure wish all parents were like them...
> 
> I'm not sure why I'm sharing this. Adding a personal touch, I guess? Anyway next chapter coming up at the end of this week!
> 
> Come visit me at www.allthingsjohnlock.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

**‘How’s your foot today?’**

**‘Fine, actually I can almost walk without looking like an idiot. -SH’**

**‘I’m sure you don’t look like an idiot.’**

It was Wednesday afternoon now and John had asked about his foot every single day since the accident. He quite enjoyed the attention and he enjoyed the fact that he wasn’t always the one to initiate the texting even more. He was sitting in chemistry now, Molly right next to him, and class was almost over. 

“Who do you keep texting all the time. It’s like you phone is glued to your hand or something.” She stated while looking around the classroom, checking if the teacher wasn’t looking their way. 

“Relax, he’s busy explaining the assignment to those meatheads over there, that could take a while longer.” He jerked his head towards the back of the class, where the more popular kids were sitting. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”

“How sweet of you,” he deadpanned. 

“Whatever. Could you put that phone away for a minute and concentrate on this assignment?”

“Fine.” Sherlock slid the phone into his trouser pocket and turned his attention back to the task at hand. A few minutes later however he felt his phone buzz. He automatically started reaching for it but then decided not to and ignored it. Five minutes later he guessed he had received about ten more texts and Molly, who had noticed Sherlock flinch every time his phone buzzed, couldn’t handle it anymore. 

“Jesus, Sherlock, who is that and why can’t they stop texting you, don't they know you’re in class?”

Sherlock blushed a little and hoped Molly wouldn’t notice. “I’ll tell him to shut it.” He reached for his phone but before could unlock it Molly snagged it from his hands. 

“Oh my God, they’re from John?” 

“Molly give that back.” He whispered trying not to attract any unnecessary attention. 

“Here.” She handed it back to him and Sherlock unlocked his phone, seeing that John had indeed sent him 11 messages in total. 

**‘If you’d like I can check on your foot again.’  
** **‘You know, just to check if you should be walking on it.’  
** **‘Are you in class?’**  
**‘Is that why you’re not responding?’**  
**‘So, are you free later?’**  
**‘We’ve got this new cupcake at Mrs Hudsons bakery, I think you’ll like it.’**  
**‘You should come try it and then I can check your foot.’**  
**‘If you’re free, that is.’**  
**‘You seem pretty busy right now.’**  
**‘You know it’s rude when you don’t respond, right?’**  
**‘Sherloooooooock‼‼‼’**

The more messages he read, the redder his face got. Molly noticed, of course, and was leaning closer and closer to Sherlock to try to read along. 

“What is he saying, I need to know.”

“He asked me to come by.”

“Really? At is house? He is inviting you to his house?” Molly practically shouted, the look on her face one of genuine surprise.

“Mrs Hudson’s bakery, in town.”

“And why?”

“He says he want to check on my foot.” Molly started sniggering.

“Bullocks! That’s the sleaziest excuse ever! He just wants to see you.” 

“Well, he also said he wants me to try a new cupcake they’re having.”

“See! I told you! That’s the actual reason. He wants to feed you up a bit, that’s what boyfriends do!” She was looking at him now like she had known it all along, as if she had just won an argument that had been going on for hours. The smugness could not be erased from her face. 

“So, are you going?” 

“I don’t know.” He was looking back down at his phone unsure of how to respond to John’s messages. The bell rang. He started collecting his stuff into his bag when Molly asked about their assignment. 

“Do you want to get together tomorrow during lunch to finish this? Or tomorrow after school?” 

Sherlock was just about to answer when Molly almost screamed: “Wait, we could finish this right now, at the bakery! Come on.” She swung her own bag over her shoulder, picked up Sherlock’s jacket and walked out of the door. He caught up with her in the hallway and pulled his jacket from her grasp, putting it on before they reached the outside. He didn’t really want to argue with her because he was dying to see John. So while Molly was leading the way, heading towards the bus stop, Sherlock stayed two steps behind her. Sherlock was smiling broadly, trying to hide his excitement from his friend.

“It’s the bakery on the main street, right?”

“Yeah.” 

They were waiting for the bus now, surrounded by dozens of other students. Sherlock felt his phone buzz again. It was another message from John. 

**‘Sherlock? Are you ok? Why aren’t you responding? Classes are over by now, right?’**

**‘John, relax. We’re coming over. -SH’**

**‘Cool! Who is ‘we’?’**

**‘Molly and I. -SH’**

**‘Brilliant, see you soon then :)’**

Sherlock was reading John’s last text, exciting smile all over his face when he noticed a mood shift in the air. 

“What are you smiling about, freak?” Sherlock locked his phone quickly so no one could read along and put it in his coat pocket. He looked up to see Sally standing in front of Molly. It looked like they were having a headed discussion, which Sherlock hadn’t actually noticed before. 

“That is none of your business, of course.” 

“Oh wait, I know, there’s a meeting for sad, pathetic and lonely people in town, you’re probably both going.”

“Actually, Sally, we’re heading into town to visit Sherlock’s boyfriend.” Sherlock glared at Molly, why would she say that? He remembered vividly denying that particular fact a week ago. Sally looked slightly taken aback, though and Molly noticed so she just kept elaborating on her little white lie. “Yeah, he’s going to treat us to some cupcakes and coffee.”

“What? That guy from last week?” Sally turned her head to Sherlock abruptly.

Sherlock shook off his irritation and straightened up his posture, pretending to be confident.

“Yes, Sally, good job, you remember.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Whatever, he must be a freak too if he fancies you.”

“Well, being a freak is certainly better than being a bitch, like you.” Molly sneered. 

Sherlock looked at Molly. Her face was twisted with a million emotions. Sherlock saw shock, regret, fierceness and anger painted across her features. Apparently she couldn’t quite believe she had just used the B-word. But it did have its effect. Sally had heard enough and had stalked off muttering under her breath. Leaving Sherlock and Molly behind together with about 10 other students who were all gaping at Molly. After a few seconds Molly lowered her head and covered her face with her hand and groaned. 

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Molly, it’s okay, someone had to tell her at some point. Actually, I think she hears that quite regularly. I’m glad you stood up for me though, that was… good.”

She smiled shyly at him then. “I hope she won’t tell her friends and take revenge on me or something. This year I’ve managed to keep out of their way.” Sherlock knew Molly had also had it rough due to the kids from her class. She was an easy target: she was little, shy, insecure and smart. The other kids took advantage of that, thinking that were good reasons to bully someone. This year all the attention had gone to Sherlock, of course. He didn’t really mind the bullies. He knew why people felt the need to bully and he just really couldn’t care less. Furthermore, he was happy for Molly that she didn’t have to go through that anymore. And then, all of a sudden it struck him. He realised Molly was a true friend. She had stood up for him, never mind the consequences it could have for her. He had a friend. He should do something for her, definitely after what she just did for him. 

The bus arrived, however, and Sherlock stored that thought away for later. They got on the bus and talked about Sally and her friends for a while. When the bus dropped them off in the centre of town Molly was laughing again, already forgetting her worries from earlier. 

The bakery was a popular place for students to go to after school so Molly and Sherlock hurried over, hoping they’d be fast enough to claim a seat before any other students showed up. When they were about 50 meters from the shop Sherlock could see the inside and saw that the two armchairs next to the windows were still vacant. They picked up the pace even more and a minute later they were both seated. Molly was actually panting a bit and Sherlock had to make an effort to breathe slowly so that his breathlessness wouldn’t be quite that obvious. They quickly took off their coats and hung them over the back of their seats. Molly started unpacking her bag, scattering their homework all over the little table in-between their seats. 

“Brilliant, now, what would you like to drink?” Sherlock stood up, indicating he was going to go up to the counter where Mrs Hudson was serving another costumers. Molly took the little menu from the side of the table and did a quick check. 

“Um, oh, some hot chocolate sounds perfect right now.” She smiled widely at Sherlock. 

“Ok.” Sherlock turned around and headed for Mrs Hudson. 

“Hello, dear! How are you today?”

“Very well, Mrs Hudson.”

“That’s nice, how’s your mother, dear?”

“Good, I assume.” 

“Is that your girlfriend over there?” Sherlock was kind of getting sick of her questions now. He knew Mrs Hudson was one of those ladies who loved to gossip so better not let her get any ideas. 

“No, she’s my chemistry partner, we’re doing our homework. Could we get som-,” 

“Oh, partners, I see!” and then give him a sly wink. This woman was unstoppable, she didn’t even give him time to order their drinks.

“Yes, chemistry partners. Could we get some hot chocolate, please, two cups?” He blurted out before she started asking more uncomfortable questions. 

“Of course, dear, I’ll bring them right over.” 

“Thanks.”

He turned around and sat down across from Molly. He pushed some papers aside to make room for the two cups. He took his phone out his pocket and opened the conversation with John. 

‘We’re here, where are those cupcakes? -SH’

‘Impatient much? I’ll be right there.’

A few minutes later Molly and Sherlock were busy with their assignment when someone coughed right behind Sherlock. Molly looked up and a bright smile lit up her face. Sherlock turned his head and saw John, holding a platter with two mugs and two cupcakes. 

“Hey, guys, doing some homework, I see?”

“Brilliant deduction, John!” Sherlock said. 

John rolled his eyes but knew how to play Sherlock. “Yes, well, I learned from the best.” 

Molly sniggered and John addressed her. 

“Hey, Molly, what’s up?” 

“Hello John, I’m great, thanks. Actually I wanted to say thank you personally for correcting our last assignment. Perfect score, if we keep it up like this we’ll get into any science programme we want.” 

“Oh, you’re thinking about going into science?”

“Yes, actually, I’d love to become a pathologist.” 

“Oh, wow, good on you.” John was standing next to their table now, looking for a big enough space to put the platter. He couldn’t find any so he decided to just put in on their piles of papers. 

“John is actually wanting to go into medicine, so you guys have something in common.”

John looked over at Sherlock and then smiled at Molly. “That’s true.”

“Oh, cool, have you applied to any colleges yet?”

“Yeah, a few, but I’ve got my heart set on Bart’s. I’ll actually be getting a reply soon, a couple of weeks from now, I think. So, fingers crossed!” He crossed his fingers.

“Well, good luck!” Molly said.

He just smiled at her and then looked back down at their table. “So, um, new cupcakes, cinnamon and apple. Let me know how you guys like them, I gotta go back to work. Enjoy!” 

He turned around and headed for the back of the shop. Sherlock followed him with his eyes all the way until John suddenly turned around again. He saw Sherlock still looking at him, shock written all over his face, being caught staring like that. But it appears John didn’t really mind. He shot Sherlock another quick wink and then disappeared from view. 

Sherlock turned back towards Molly who was looking at him knowingly. Sherlock ignored her and suggested they start their assignment. It was half an hour later, both mugs empty, cup cakes devoured and at least 50 more customers in and out the door that Molly sighed and sat back in her chair. Sherlock looked up at her quickly, noticing she was getting tired of the assignment but carried on working. A few minutes later though, when Molly still wasn’t showing any sign of cooperation Sherlock put his pen down and straightened up. His eyes skimmed all over her face. She was looking at something behind him, probably somewhere in the vicinity of the counter and she had a pensive look on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes slightly squinted and her nose scrunched up, as if she smelt something foul. 

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked her. 

She didn’t reply, only nodding towards the counter so Sherlock turned around to see what had struck Molly’s attention. He didn’t really notice anything in particular. There were about eight other people in the shop, including Mrs Hudson and John behind the counter. There were two people standing in line, waiting to order. John was taking the order of a girl, Sherlock deduced she was also a student from their school. Two other people were sitting at a table quietly chit-chatting while the last person was seated near the other window, reading today’s paper. 

“So?”

“John, he’s been talking to that girl for 5 minutes straight. That’s longer than necessary, isn’t it?”

Sherlock repeated himself, he didn’t really get where Molly was going with this. “So?”

“Well, I think they’re flirting. I can’t really hear their conversation but I can see her smile profusely and John too, to be honest.”

Sherlock felt his stomach drop further each second Molly was talking. He felt like he had to see for his own, so he turned in his seat again and tried to deduce. He saw John smiling, indeed, but that didn’t mean anything, right? He’s probably just being nice to her for tips. But then he saw her reaching out her arm toward John and swat it playfully as if she was scolding him for something he said. Sherlock could hear him laugh out loud and then he could hear the girl join in. By now Sherlock was sure everyone could see him shoot daggers at her with just his eyes so he turned back towards his homework. Face down, heartbroken and his brain eerily quiet. 

“I know her. She goes to our school, a senior, I think she’s called Mary or something.” 

‘Mary,’ Sherlock thought, ‘how pedestrian.’ 

It was quiet for a few more seconds and then Molly gasped. “I think she just slipped him her phone number.” 

That was it. Sherlock couldn’t handle it anymore. He stood up, took his coat, stuffed some papers in his backpack, not caring one bit if they were his or Molly’s and then left the shop without saying goodbye to Molly, without pulling on his coat and certainly without looking up at John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sherly! I hope you guys liked it.. 
> 
> The next chapter will be quite long, so it'll probably take me a while longer upload too. Hopefully it's up by the end of next week! Bear with me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait.  
> But to make it up to you, tis chapter is quite long.
> 
> Anyway, this part of the fic is almost over. One more chapter and then who knows ... 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Wednesday evening_

**‘That wasn’t very nice, you know. Leaving Molly behind with the bill? Why did you ditch her like that?’**

**‘You owe her 3 pounds.’**

**‘I don’t get it. She wasn’t even angry. You should appreciate her more. She’s obviously a great friend.’**

_Thursday_

**‘I just realised I didn’t even check your foot.’**

**‘How are you feeling?’**

_Friday_

**‘What is it with you and not responding. Are you angry or something?’**

Sherlock read all the messages the second he received them, he just didn’t have the heart to answer. He did have a heart, of course, it was just shattered to pieces and he hadn’t quite figured out yet how he was going to piece in back together. In the meantime he decided to give John to the silent treatment.

A few days passed and John kept texting, always asking small and unimportant questions, probing an answer out of him, but to no avail. Sherlock stayed quiet. He had paid Molly back immediately and she indeed didn’t seem very fussed about the whole situation, in fact she was being quite careful around Sherlock. It felt to him as if she was walking on her tiptoes around him, staying quiet and just doing everything he asked, following his every command. Sherlock realised she pitied him and he hated it, because that meant she knew his little secret. John, however, was right about Molly, she was his friend and so in some way Sherlock was glad that at least she understood.

On Saturday, when Sherlock’s mother came back from her shopping trip Sherlock could tell she was angry. He hoped it had nothing to do with him but by the way she was looking at him when she entered the kitchen he knew the anger was directed at him.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes,” oh-oh, he was in big trouble now, “why did you leave your friend at the bakery and why are you not responding John’s texts? He is awfully worried about you.”

“So?” He was not in the mood for this.

“Sherlock. What is the matter? You’ve been acting strangely all week.” He could tell she was still quite angry with him.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “that’s none of your business.”

He’d shocked his mother and actually he’s quite shocked himself. He had never been so rude to her and he sure wasn’t the person to talk back to his mother. They had a great relationship in general, so when Sherlock responded that way his mother knew something was wrong. She changed her tactics, determined to get Sherlock to speak about what had his knickers in a twist.

“Sherlock, darling, why are you acting so … so …,” she was searching for a suitable word.

“So what, mother?”

“So childish, dear, you’re not yourself, please tell me what is bothering you.”

“Mum, I’m fine. It’ll blow over, I promise, I’m sorry. About before, I shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped his eyes. His mother walked over to him and put both her hands on his shoulders. Sherlock looked up into her eyes.

“Darling, I don’t know what is bothering you, but you know you can tell me, right?”

“Yes, I know, thank you, but I’m fine. I swear.”

“Okay.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze. “I love you,” he heard her say. So he quietly replied with, “me too”, wriggled out of her embrace and went upstairs, shutting himself in his room for the rest of the day.

In the couple of days that followed Sherlock had time to reflect on his actions and of one thing he was 100% sure: he should stop being so pathetic. He had known from the start that John was way out of his league: he was handsome, smart, incredibly fit, sweet and on top of that way to old for Sherlock. And also, Sherlock wasn’t even sure John liked guys.

Anyways, Sherlock had decided to halt his silent treatment and had texted John back with an apology. He’d written the whole leaving-Molly-behind-without-paying-my-share-of-the-bill off as a family emergency, which John seemed to believe to some extent, at least he hadn’t questioned him about that.

So, for the moment, Sherlock was quite proud of himself. He had handled the whole situation badly at the start but had managed to make it up to both parties and on top of that, he believed he was handling the whole crush-thing quite maturely.

The Wednesday that followed though, he received some news from John.

**‘I GOT IN‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼‼!**

**‘Wow, slow down there, John. -SH’**

**‘SHERLOOOCK‼‼! I’M GOING TO BE A DOCTOR! I GOT INTO BART’S ‼‼’**

**‘Yes, I got that, thank you. -SH’**

**‘Well? Aren’t you happy for me?’**

**‘Of course I am. I’m happy, pleased, thrilled, ecstatic, over the moon. I’m so happy for you I find it hard to express exactly how happy I am for you. -SH’**

**‘Whatever. I got into Bart’s. I’ll be a doctor and then I’m going to fix that attitude of yours because that is abysmal and should be treated right away.’**

**‘Yes, you won’t be an actual doctor for 7 more years, give or take. Who says we’ll still be in touch by then? –SH‘**

**‘I say.’**

**‘Well, you’ll be a doctor and only a fool argues with his doctor… -SH’**

**‘That’s the spirit!’**

And that was that conversation. Sherlock was indeed happy for John, he knew how much he wanted to get into St Bartholomew’s Hospital. But, it was all the way in London, that’s like a two-hour ride away, meaning he wasn’t going to see him often, probably not even at all in the years coming. It mad him feel sad, lonely and heartbroken. He wanted to cry, yell and lock himself up in his room all over again, but the new Sherlock decided to handle it differently. You might think Sherlock would just get over it, get over that stupid crush. But in fact, he kind of just ignored the fact that John was soon leaving him behind.

After John’s happy announcement to Sherlock more and more people came to know of the good news. Molly found out when she’d visited the bakery a week later and Mrs Holmes had found out when she’d bumped into Mrs Hudson at the local grocery market. Both of their immediate reaction seemed to be to tell Sherlock about it, not realising he’d already known. So when they mentioned it to him he just rolled his eyes and told them he’d already known. Mrs Holmes was quite upset then, and demanded to know why Sherlock hadn’t told her the good news before.

“Well, it’s hardly my news to tell, is it?”

“Yes, I guess that’s true enough. I’m so delighted, though, he’s such a bright kid and he’s been working so hard for it, he really does deserve it. Mrs Hudson is quite worried he won’t be able to afford it, though, so she is planning on doing like a fundraiser or going away party or something for him. You know, just to make sure he leaves with that little bit of extra money. Oh, so exciting. Don’t tell him though, it will be a surprise!”

“Sure, mother, I will try my hardest not to spoil the surprise.” Sherlock deadpanned while rolling his eyes. Again.

“Thanks, dear.” She’d patted him on the head then, like he was some kind of dog that had just played dead for its owner. He moved his head away, trying to avoid the touch of his mother, and went into the living room, leaving her behind in the kitchen so she could call Mrs Hudson about the party.

Apparently they were very serious about it because two days later his mother called Sherlock with her.

“Sherlock, tell me about John.”

Sherlock waited for more explanation, he could tell his mother lots of things about John Watson, but she probably didn’t want to know about those. So he just looked at her strangely in the hopes she would further explain what information she was after exactly.

“What is he like? Do you think he’ll appreciate a surprise party? We hardly know him, but he’s such a good lad. I talked it over with Mrs Hudson, she would like to hold the party at the bakery, but it might be a little small, you know how small it is inside the shop. And with the nice weather in the summer, we might just do it outside. What do you think about doing it here, in our house, well, I mean in the garden? Do you think he’ll like that?”

She kept on rambling, Sherlock had to stop her for a minute before she passed out from forgetting to breathe.

“Mum, stop talking.” He raised both his hands indicating her to stop.

“Sorry, that was a lot of information, but what do you think? Would you like to help me with organising it?”

“I’m pretty certain he will appreciate it. And what’s in it for me when I help you out?”

“My eternal love?”

“Got that already, don’t I?”

“True, you know me so well.” She gave him a wink. “I guess, if you help out and do a good job, John will be the last sitter you’ll ever have. When John leaves for college, you’ll be babysitter free.”

“Brilliant!” Sherlock clapped his hands together. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He had given his word to his mother and it was impossible to get out of it now. She needed help with absolutely everything. Not just the thinking part of the operation but also the physical part. Over the next month he helped his mother with shaping the garden up a little after the winter, planting some extra plants, cleaning the garden furniture, buying party decorations and plenty more stuff.

In the beginning of May the preparations came to an end and the only thing left to do was hosting the actual party. Mrs Hudson took care of the cake and would bring an unaware John to the Holmes house during his shift with the excuse that he would have to deliver a cake to their house. Little did he know it was actually his cake in the closed off box.

So that’s how on a nice and sunny Saturday afternoon in May the Holmes’ garden was full of strangers. It was Mrs Hudson who had contacted Harry and together they had thought about all John’s friends and family to invite to the party. He did recognize some people, there was Harry, some seniors from his school, though he didn’t really know how they were related to John, there was Molly (Sherlock had invited her, just so he had someone to actually talk to during all this), some people he recognized just from around town and then there was a whole group of young men who were all huddled together. Sherlock identified them as John’s rugby team.

He’d helped his mother all morning setting things up before the guests arrived and he was just sitting down on one of the chairs near the open doors to their living room when he saw Molly walk through the living room. He stood up and waved her over.

“Hey Sherlock, how are you?”

“Tired, it’s way to busy here and I don’t know any of these people.”

“Yeah, isn’t it weird to have strangers in your own house? My mother used to throw all these parties for the WI or her book club or something, so I’d come down in my pyjama’s to get something to drink before bed and all of a sudden there’s a stranger in your kitchen. Awful. I always tried to stay out of the way but it’s my house, you know, I should be able to do what I want.”

Her gaze drifted off, looking at the guests for a while. Sherlock just sat beside her, enjoying the silent and comfortable company. After a while Molly spoke again.

“That’s got to be John’s rugby team. There are some pretty fit boys in there! Maybe John could introduce me to them later. Yeah, I’ll ask him to do that!”

“Well, I can tell you now that the boy with the jeans, brown sneakers and black sweater is the best match for you.” He saw Molly’s eyes squinting and moving over the group until they fixated on the boy Sherlock was talking about.”

“Okay, not bad! He’s cute, why him, though?”

“Well, I think he’s still quite young but wise for his years. He doesn’t have girlfriend right now, probably because his last girlfriend cheated on him. He is looking for a serious relationship, so committed. Also, he’s looked over here 4 times since you sat down, no scratch that, 5 times now!”

Molly had been looking at Sherlock while he was explaining himself but quickly turned her face back to the rugby boy. They locked eyes and Molly blushed. He smiled shyly, looked down, not quite confident enough to hold the eye contact and then pitched in on the conversation the other lads were in.

“Do you know him or something?”

“No, I deduced.”

“Right, I forget you do that sometimes.” She was still blushing a bit from her little moment with the rugby-hottie and Sherlock decided to boost her ego a bit before she’d lose confidence to make her move.

“You look nice, I like your dress. Is it new?”

“No actually,” she looked down at her bright yellow dress and stroked over the creases, “just never had an opportunity to wear it, you know.”

“Well, it suits you, I like a bit of colour on you. 

“Thanks, Sherlock. So, when is John coming?”

“I’m not sure, Mrs Hudson said she was going to send John here at around 3. So he should be here any moment.” He took his phone out of his pocket to check the time and noticed he had a message. It was from John.

**‘Hey! I’m headed for your house with a delivery! Are you home?’**

He’d sent it 3 minutes ago, which meant he would be here in 7 more minutes. He stood up quickly and went to look for his mother to tell her John would be there any minute.

Five minutes later everyone was gathered in the garden where John wouldn’t be able to see them from inside the house. The doorbell rang and it was Sherlock’s task to open the door and let John in.

John was standing in front of the door with a big box in his hands, he was still wearing his apron and Sherlock could see several hand-shaped flower stains on them.

“Hey Sherlock, what’s up? I’ve got something for you!” He tilted his head towards the box in his hands. “Who’s it for anyway. Not for you, you’re birthday is in January, right?

“Yeah, come on in, I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” He stepped over the threshold and wiped his shoes quickly on the mat. He followed Sherlock into the kitchen.

 “Home alone?”

 “Um, yeah” He took the box out of John’s hands and set it on the worktop. He fished a knife from a drawer and cut the tapes that had closed off the box. He put the whole box in front of John.

 “Open it up, you’ll see who it’s for.”

 John did as he was told. He lifted the top of the box and then fell silent.

 “I don’t get it.”

Sherlock rushed by his side to check if it was the right cake inside. It was a round cake with two tiers, there were no candles or other tacky decorations, there was just a big piece of chocolate on top, which had writing on it. It said:

 

**_Congratulations_ **

**_soon-to-be Dr Watson_ **

 

“What don’t you get? That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” 

John looked up at Sherlock. “Yeah, I get that it’s for me, for getting into college, but why did I have to bring it here to open it?” He looked utterly confused.

“Oh, right, you should go outside, that’ll make it clear."

“Outside, Sherlock, what is going on? Just tell me!”

“Just go outside, you’ll see!” He took John by the shoulder turned him around and steered him towards the living room.

When they were far enough into the living room John could see the people and decorations through the windows. He stopped in the middle of the room and faced Sherlock.

“You’re throwing me a surprise party?” he practically shouted it. At first Sherlock thought he was angry but then he noticed the actual surprise on John’s face and the hint of a smile.

“Yes, well, I helped. It was actually my mother’s and Mrs Hudson’s idea. I just decided to help out a bit.”

John started laughing now.

“Wow, I never in a million years expected this. What a surprise. Ha, an actual surprise party. Brilliant!”

He moved closer to Sherlock, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and give him a hug. “Thank you Sherlock, really, I appreciate it,” he whispered in Sherlock’s ear. He let go of him before Sherlock got over the shock of it. When he came to he noticed John had already left the room and had gone into the garden. He saw John being surrounded by people, his family, his rugby friends, Sherlock’s parents, other people he didn’t know and then Molly came inside and stood next to Sherlock. Both of them were standing there, looking through the open doors, watching John from a distance.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting over something.”

“What’s that?”

He coughed. “Nothing.” The bell rang again and Sherlock rushed to the door to let Mrs Hudson in.

“Did it work? Was he surprised?”

“Yes, definitely surprised.”

“Good! It was a hassle to get him out of the kitchen when I was working on the text! I kept thinking he was going to notice something was happening. Luckily it was quite busy in the shop so he wasn’t really paying attention to what I was doing.”

Sherlock led Mrs Hudson through the kitchen and picked up the cake to bring it outside with him. Molly was no longer in the living room and Sherlock saw her talking to John and that boy from his team when he entered the garden with Mrs Hudson. When John noticed Mrs Hudson he came right over and gave her a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, you’re all very sneaky. It was a real surprise. I wouldn’t have guessed, ever!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re an idiot.” Sherlock mumbled. Mrs Hudson looked shocked at that but John just smiled.

“Well, not everyone is a genius like you Sherlock. And, by the way, I can’t be that big of an idiot, I did get into Bart’s after all and don’t forget I revise you homework AND find mistakes, so ...” Sherlock just scoffed, not really knowing how to respond to that. He hoped he hadn’t actually hurt John by saying that and hoped he knew he was just teasing him. Sherlock thought he had the right to do so, after all, John was leaving him behind. All of a sudden he felt this pang in his stomach. It had just dawned on him that he’d just made a friend and now that friend was leaving him already. It reminded him all a bit too much of Mycroft’s leaving for Uni. One of the only people who he actually tolerated was leaving again and Sherlock would be left behind. At least he had Molly, but soon, in a year or two, she would be leaving too.

Sherlock stopped then, he couldn’t think about that now. He shook himself out of his reverie and started searching for Molly. She was still talking with that rugby boy and it looked like they were having the best time.

“Who’s Molly talking to exactly?” He asked John.

“Oh, that’s Greg, he’s a great lad, he’s from my rugby team, actually.”

“Obviously.”

“It looks like they’re having a good time?”

“It sure is.”

“And they kind of look good together, don’t you think? They’re both pretty, quite smart too and Greg is seriously the nicest person around. Perfect match! Cupid did some good work today.”

They both contemplated on that for a second before Sherlock asked the big question.

“So, when are you leaving?”

“I’ll be gone by the end of august, settling in for while, getting to know my classmates, you know. Before classes start.”

“…”

“Which means I won’t be able to babysit you anymore. I’ll miss that. You’re the most fun I’ve ever had as a sitter.”

“Well, you’re the best sitter ever, so I guess that makes sense.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go on saying thanks to a bunch of people. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure, see you around.”

John nodded once and then walked over to the group standing near Molly and, er, Geoff, was it?

The party went on for a while and Sherlock was glad he invited his only friend, and though it seemed she was more interested in her new love interest now, she didn’t forget why Sherlock invited her over and so she stayed by his side most of the time. As the party carried on and it started to get a bit dark outside, more and more people decided to leave. Molly and Sherlock were helping Mrs Holmes with clearing some cups and sources to the kitchen when they were joined by Greg.

He actually was a nice fellow, Sherlock had to agree and it meant that he was the perfect match for Molly. Sherlock was hoping Molly wasn’t one of those girls who forgot all about her friends when they got a new boyfriend.

He helped them with the dishes a bit and conversation between the three of them started flowing naturally.

“What? You’re only 13 years old? Wow, I would never have guessed. I would peg you for 15!” It wasn’t the first time people said that. Sherlock was tall for his age and together with his language skills and having skipped grades people were always shocked when they found out.

“Yes, indeed, only 13, it’s like I’m a child.”

“So, you’re pretty smart then, when you’re in Molly’s classes?”

“Yes, actually we’re chemistry partners. The best partner ever, eh Sherlock? Perfect score on almost every assignment this year!” She swung the dishtowel she was using over her shoulder and threw her hand up for a high five.

Sherlock knew what she was after but wasn’t going to indulge her on that childish way of celebration so he just glared at her instead. She shrugged her shoulders, as if it wasn’t at all awkward when someone didn’t return your high five. In fact, she just spun her body around and offered the still unanswered high five to Greg. He did not leave her hanging and gave her hand a loud clap. Sherlock found it quite amusing and started giggling. Molly and Greg decided to join in on the giggle session and after a minute or so started cleaning up again. Half an hour later most of the dishes were done and most of the guests had left Sherlock’s house. Finally some peace and quiet, Sherlock thought.

The only people left were his cleaning companions, Mrs Hudson and John. Sherlock walked into garden and saw Mrs Hudson, John and his mother having some leftover pie. All the guests had had a piece but the cake was so big there was quite a big piece left.

“Oh, Sherlock, dear, we were just talking about you,” Mrs Hudson said. “Tell John your idea for the fundraising part of the surprise.”

So they hadn’t told him yet? Sherlock would’ve thought they had mentioned that before all the guests were gone, but apparently they hadn’t.

“Well, I was thinking, you know, to support you and to gather some money for your flat and books and stuff, you could sell a cupcake at the bakery where all it’s profits go to you, I guess."

“The great and delicious ‘Dr Watson’ cupcake!” Mrs Hudson chuckled sweeping both her hands through the air.

“Are you serious? You’re all doing to much!”

“No, dear, it’s no trouble really, if you bake them yourself I really don’t see the fuss. You can use all the ingredients in the kitchen, you can even choose which flavours and stuff. But you bake them yourself and then you can sell them in the store. I’m sure plenty people will want to by them if it’s for a good cause.”

“I’m hardly a good cause.”

“Of course you are, and you know Dr Green is already 60 years old, who’s going to replace him when he’s too old? Who will be our doctor? Who will be our saviour when we fall ill. Who will… ” John cut her off.

“Okay! I got it. Mhm, I just have to think about what kind of cupcake I’ll be making then.”

“Take the apple and cinnamon one. That was delicious. And I noticed you haven’t been selling it yet, so?”

“Yeah, great idea. I actually do know how to do that one. It’s pretty simple.” John smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked down at the table and noticed their plates were empty. He started clearing them off and John helped him with picking up the empty cups. Together they walked into the house again with the dirty dishes.

“Sherlock, I really don’t know how to thank you for all of this. You’ve been brilliant, I swear to God, if there is anything I can do for you, just tell me. I owe you, big time."

“Really, John that’s not necessary, it was my pl…”

They stopped. They had just walked through the living room and were about to enter the kitchen when Sherlock nearly dropped the plates in his hands.

Molly was standing with her back to them and her front was directed at Greg. But he was standing insanely close. Sherlock couldn’t really tell if they were actually kissing already or were just about to kiss but he really didn’t need to know so he decided to leave them to it. He wanted to take a step back but John would be standing right behind him. So he turned around, took one of John’s shoulders in his hand and turned him around. “Move,” he whispered.

“Sherlock, what is going on?” John whispered back.

When Sherlock was sure they were out of earshot he explained. “I think Greg was about to kiss Molly, and I really didn’t want to see that, or disturb it either. Molly really wants a boyfriend.”

John clapped his hands together. “Brilliant! How exciting. I have to see.”

“No, John, don’t.” But he was gone already. He ran over to the kitchen door and peered around it. After a few seconds he’d seen enough and walked right in.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Sherlock couldn’t really tell what was happening now but he did hear some stumbling, probably Molly and Greg breaking apart quickly and trying to get as much distance between them as possible.

“I … we were just … er … ” Sherlock heard Greg say. He walked over towards the kitchen slightly and the first thing he saw behind John’s frame was Molly’s red face.

Sherlock called over John’s back. “Go get him, Molly,” and rose his fist up in the air. She blushed even more now. Sherlock started laughing, he felt pretty bad for her now, with John making her blush so much, but he was so happy for her too and he just couldn’t stop himself. Soon they were all laughing and when Mrs Hudson and Mrs Holmes walked in no one wanted to explain what it was they were laughing about.

Ten minutes later Molly and Greg left, Greg offering Molly a ride home and John left soon after that, but only after thanking everyone again for all the effort. John took Mrs Hudson back home and now the Holmes’ were alone in their empty house. Sherlock’s dad had already gone to bed, having to wake up for a conference call in the early hours and Mycroft? Well, Sherlock actually hadn’t seen him since the cake was cut.

“You’ve been great help, Sherlock. So much so that I don’t think you need a babysitter anymore, starting now.”

Sherlock was shocked, he was happy he hadn’t disappointed his mother but he couldn’t say goodbye to John just yet. I guess his mother saw something sad on his face because she continued with, “if you want?”

Sherlock smiled.

“I don’t mind having John over.”

“I thought so. Then our previous arrangement still stands. John will babysit you until he’s off for Uni, then you can stay home alone without a sitter.”

“Thanks, mum.”

“Sure thing, dear.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, last chapter...  
> I'm so sorry about the long wait! I'm guessing there will be some mistakes in here, but I hadn't had much time to beta. I'm leaving for a weeklong holiday in 6 hours and I just HAD to updat this fic first. So, sorry for the errors...  
> Please, enjoy!

They were hugging. Sherlock should be happy. John had his arms around him, he could feel John’s breath through his curls, but he was far from content. Sherlock was sad, almost to the point that he was crying. 

“Text me every time you’re home alone, ok? I’ll be looking after you from exactly 78 miles away.” John said, still hanging on to Sherlock tightly. They had done the math about an hour ago. It was august 25th and John was leaving in two days. Sherlock’s parents had invited John over for a last dinner to thank him again for all the babysitting and moving and to have a proper and nice last goodbye. Sherlock knew his parents were doing it more for Sherlock’s sake then their own and he loved them for that. Dinner had been devoured, the game of Clue that ended badly was luckily over and now the time had come for the moment that Sherlock had dreaded most: saying goodbye. 

Sherlock gave him a sad smile. “Bye John.” He was certain he could never let go of John. His arms were stuck around John’s waist and no force in the world could tell him to let go. 

“Bye Sherlock. Take care.” In the end it seemed that John himself was the only person to force Sherlock to let go. John gave him one more squeeze and then leaned back, creating some distance between them. Sherlock hands fell down from John’s back to his own sides, like some limp spaghetti strings. John took both Sherlock’s hands in his and just looked at them for a second. He squeezed them once, as if he couldn’t bring it upon himself to speak, then he quickly spun around and walked the remaining six feet to his car door. 

He stepped into his car and drove off. Sherlock watched him for as long as he could, all the way down the street until he disappeared behind a corner. Still Sherlock didn’t move. About three minutes later Sherlock’s mother peered outside from behind the curtains hanging from the kitchen windows. She saw her son standing out there by himself and thought to herself she was going to give him five more minutes of his sad, gloomy moping and then she would usher him inside. 

For the next week or so Sherlock didn’t much leave his room. When his mother confronted him about it he told her that he was preparing for school, she knew better of course and left him to it. Sherlock was missing John already, of course, but that wasn’t really why he was sulking up in his room. It was rather the fact that John hadn’t texted him yet. The first few days Sherlock hadn’t thought much about it, John was probably very busy filling out thousands of forms and applications, having to go shopping for school material and books and settling in to his apartment but after a week of silence Sherlock grew impatient. 

Salvation came 2 days later at 10.30 pm in the form of a long text. 

**‘Hey, how are you? I finally finished unpacking. Had some problems moving in here. The previous residents left an awful mess behind. So I had to clean that up first. It’s looking nice though, now, I’ll send you some before and after pics.’**

A few seconds after he read the message he received the promised pictures. John had been right. The place had been a mess. First of all, the place looked like it had been abandoned for at least 2 years. It was dark in the room. There were only two windows at the high end of the walls and it didn’t seem like they let in much light. ‘So he probably lived in some sort of basement,’ Sherlock reasoned. 

There was dust everywhere and Sherlock could definitely detect some mould and damp patches in the far right corner of the room. There was still some furniture in there that was covered in sheets, which probably meant John didn’t have to buy new ones. Hopefully the sheets had kept everything more or less acceptable condition. Sherlock scrolled to the next picture and immediately recognised it as the kitchen. It was tiny, but, Sherlock reasoned, enough for one person living by himself. 

Sherlock noticed that the kitchen area was actually pretty clean so that was probably an after picture. He scrolled to the next and saw the living area again. This time the place was brighter, probably because someone had cleaned the windows and a nice bit of sunlight hit the floor and some of the furniture. The furniture itself had been stripped from the sheets and Sherlock was pleasantly surprised at the style and state of the sofa, chairs and tables. 

He wondered if John did get new furniture and had just thrown the old stuff out but when he scrolled back to the first picture the shape of the furniture was the same. He also noticed John had been airing the room out nicely (the damp spot had almost vanished) and there was a nice rug on the floor to cover some old stains on the wooden floor. 

**‘Wow, not bad. I like your furniture. -SH’**

**‘Yeah, I know, it looks nice, and it’s pretty comfy too.’**

**‘The kitchen looks smallish, though. Enough room for you to bake? -SH’**

**‘I’ve done enough baking for a while. And there’s actually a nice bakery next door so I can just get my cake-fix over there.’**

**‘Is it underground? -SH’**

**‘What? The bakery?’**

**‘No, idiot, your flat, please keep up. -SH’**

**‘Oh yeah, it’s basement flat. At first I thought it would be too dark and mouldy but I was able to fix the worst of it. I was hoping to get the flat upstairs but it’s too big and I really can’t afford it on my own. Mrs Hudson really did a good job recommending me. I owe it all to her, really.’**

**‘How’s that? -SH’**

**‘She knows the bakers from next door, old friends or something, and she hooked me up, I guess. What a saint.’**

**‘I’m glad you found a place so quickly.’**

**‘Yeah, me too, had to make some compromises, though, the bedroom is so tiny I  
can’t even open the door all they way because my bed is in the way, and it’s seriously the smallest bed a grown up can sleep in. And no, I will not have you mock my height in some way.’**

**‘I wasn’t going to. -SH’**

**‘Right. Anyway, my place is way to small to have any visitors, that’s for sure.’**

**‘Oh, were you planning on lots of visitors? -SH’**

Sherlock sincerely hoped John wasn’t talking about female visitors.

**‘No, just friends, you know, you could come over if you wanted, you’d have to sleep on the couch, though. There is in no way enough room for two on this bed.’**

Sherlock was quite taken aback at that last text. He started wondering. If John’s bed would be big enough for two, would he have aloud Sherlock to sleep in it, by his side? They had fallen asleep next to each other on the couch, but that was by accident. Together in a bed would be a different matter altogether. Sherlock thought about it for a moment and then answered:

**‘If I’m going to visit you, I will not sleep on a couch. -SH’**

**‘Fine you can sleep on my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, you spoiled brat.’**

**That made Sherlock smile and wish that one day he’d have to opportunity to go visit John.**

**‘Speaking about sleep. It’s almost midnight, you should really hit the sack.’**

**‘Only if you do too. -SH’**

**‘Fine, I’m exhausted anyway. Goodnight, Sherlock.’**

**‘Goodnight, John, sweet dreams in that tiny little bed of yours. -SH’**

**‘Sod off!’**

***

**‘I showed the pictures of your flat to my mother, she says there’s some excellent paint out there for your mould. -SH’  
‘Is there?’ **

**‘Yeah, you can get it at any hardware store, she said. -SH’**

**‘Cool, I didn’t know that was a thing. Thanks!’**

**‘Sure, no problem. -SH’**

***

**‘First evening on my own without a babysitter! -SH’**

**‘Nice! You havin’ fun?’**

**‘Yes, actually it’s quite nice. I can actually watch a nice movie without my mother sobbing beside me. -SH’**

**‘Really? What’re you watching?’**

**‘Notting Hill. Do you know it? -SH’**

**‘Of course I know it. Only a person who lived on the moon for the past 20 years wouldn’t know it. It’s a classic! It’s actually one of the few movies I own.’**

**‘Oh, okay. It’s my mother’s favourite. It’s quite cliché at some points, though. -SH’**

**‘Well, if you don’t like it then why are you watching it?’**

**‘I do like it, the parts that aren’t mushy, that is. And also, I just watched a scary movie so  
I’m trying to put my mind at ease. -SH’**

**‘I see, which part are you at?’**

**‘They’re at the dinner at his friends house. -SH’**

**‘Pause it and tell me the exact moment.’**

**‘The crazy hair girl just came back from showing her the loo. Why -SH?’**

**‘I’m putting it in too and I’ll call you, so we can watch together but separately.’**

**‘That sounds like a weird thing to do, doesn’t it? -SH’**

John didn’t answer that with a text, instead Sherlock heard his phone buzz on the side table. He picked it up, turned it around and saw John’s name flashing on the scream. He pressed the screen to answer. Without having the chance to say something he heard John talk.

_“It’s actually not that weird.”_

“Why’s that?”

_“Well, I hardly came up with the idea, I mean, I got it from somewhere, didn't I?”_

“The fact that there is a precedent doesn’t make it less strange.”

_“Well, it does for me. Come on, let’s carry on watching. D’you have to remote?”_

“Yes.”

_“Okay, 3, 2, 1, play.”_

They carried on watching the entire movie. It was mostly silent on the other line, apart from the occasional comment or laughter, and at more than one point John could practically hear Sherlock’s eye roll. 

Even after the movie was over John and Sherlock kept talking. It wasn’t until Sherlock’s parents got home and noticed Sherlock was still up that they decided to call it a day. Midnight had long gone and John did have to get up early in the morning. So they said goodbye and promised to call again soon. 

***

It turned out, ‘soon’ wasn’t actually that soon at all. They texted occasionally, but phone calls just didn’t seem to happen often. Sherlock would want to call John because he was home by himself but John wouldn’t answer the phone because he was at a party or because he was busy with his new job, or he would be busy with schoolwork. Every time it was a different excuse and after five of six times of rejection Sherlock just gave up and stopped trying. 

He missed John terribly and he figured John missed him too, in a way. It was John who texted him first, the majority of the times, asking stupid questions or making irrelevant statements like: ‘How are your grades these days?’ or ‘I heard Molly and Greg are still going strong.’ Sherlock would answer with equally dumb responses, he was a nice person after all. But to him the conversation seemed forced. 

The more time went by, the less he heard of John. After six months or so he would more often hear news about John from Greg or Molly than from John himself. Sherlock was glad Greg and Molly were still around because when they were all together made him forget all about John Watson. Though, Sherlock wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Over the last year Sherlock may have gained and lost one dear friend, but he had gained two more and he decided he shouldn’t take that for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOOOOOOOO, I'm so awful.  
> I hope you're not all mad at me for seperating them.. I do have some good news: THIS STORY IS FAR FROM OVER
> 
> I planned this from before I began writing the whole thing. So basically this story is split into two. The part we just had was part 1, obviously which had plenty of fluff and teenlock falling in love. The next part, however will be Unilock and will also be very expliciiiiiiit! Just thought I'd warn you... 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc., they are truly magnificent and we'll hopefully meet again in the next part!
> 
> Come visit [my tumblr](http://allthingsjohnlockao3.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought, or where you want the story to go. I have my own ideas, of course, but maybe I can put yours into it as well..?!


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